Chain Reaction
by Hamliet
Summary: Chrollo had no intention of dealing with Kurapika ever again. Kurapika had no intention of letting go of his grudge. When a story Chrollo is working on for his paper leads him to target a certain man with a collection of Kurta rubies, he and Kurapika find themselves reluctant allies just as likely to destroy each other as save each other.
1. Solo

**Thanks for reading! This fic is technically the third part in an HxH modern AU sequel (after Locked On, which focuses on Illumi, and Circus Act, which focuses on Hisoka), but it can be read as a standalone. Everything should be explained in the first chapter.  
**

* * *

He knew it was too good to be true, to believe he had succeeded, to believe he could approach any kind of rest.

Kurapika stared at his friend sitting across from him in the campus cafe. Melody winced, pushing her mug of Earl Grey away from her. Steam from Kurapika's rooibos tea wafted up, scalding his chin and nose. He didn't want to hear these words. His day had been going so well. He'd just gotten an after school job, and aced his history exam, and—now—and now—Kurapika inhaled. _Again?_

"I knew you'd be upset," said Melody.

They'd gotten off. That shady twisted piece of shit lawyer actually got the three of them off with a plea bargain. Shalnark. Kortopi. Pakunoda. When Kurapika used Hisoka to turn them into the police for robbing his family of their rubies years ago, he thought he could focus on tracking down the heirlooms, getting them back. He couldn't get proof anyone else was involved, though he was certain that bastard reporter, Chrollo Lucilfer, was in charge of it.

 _Why is there no justice in this world?_ Kurapika clutched his mug so tightly he thought the porcelain might break. _Mom_ _—Dad_ _—Pairo_ —

He'd failed them. Again. How shocking; it was what he always did. Kurapika chugged the tea. It was too hot, and it burned, and he was glad.

"Uvogin didn't get off," Melody reminded him gently. "You should use milk, Kurapika, it's not cool enough to drink yet." She pulled the top off a creamer and dumped some into his tea for him.

"He didn't get found guilty, either!" Because he was dead. Killed in a prison riot. Reminding him of that was hardly going to make him feel better. He hadn't wanted him dead. Not really. Kurapika's hands shook. Other students milling about, textbooks in their arms because of course calculus was the biggest burden they had to carry, turned to stare. Kurapika ignored them. His face flushed.

"It was always going to be difficult," Melody said, pushing his tea back towards him.

"But I thought—I thought—" He couldn't finish.

"Kurapika," Melody said. "It's okay. At least your family was exonerated—the city knows the Kurtas weren't running an insurance scam now—"

"They don't know," Kurapika managed. He'd still have to deal with whispers. Those thieves, once students at a far more prestigious college in Yorknew, had ruined his family's reputation forever. His father never would have gotten in the car that night if it weren't for everything they had crumbling.

And they were dead. His parents would never see justice—he was supposed to clear their name for them, he had to, he had to, he had to ensure that they could rest easy, that they could be proud of him in death if not in life.

Kurapika bowed his head. _I'm sorry._ His chest squeezed. He couldn't even address the dead. He was too useless. Too spineless.

"Kurapika, I'm so sorry," Melody said.

"It's not your fault," he muttered. It was no one's fault. No one's except those four and Chrollo's and however many of his other reporters decided to rob from the Kurtas for—for what, exactly?

 _I hate them_. He squeezed the mug again. _I hate them so much_. It was a fire, sharp and dark, burning away at his ribcage.

"What was your news?" Melody ventured.

Kurapika let out his breath. It came out a harsh laugh. Melody flinched. "I got the job."

Melody's eyes lit up. "Congratulations!"

He shrugged. "Thanks." Not that it really mattered right now. But it would give him the money to help Leorio out with rent more, so that they could stop taking charity from Killua's grouchy older brother.

And it got him closer to his goal.

"Was the woman nice?" Melody tried.

Oh, Melody. She was too sweet. She wouldn't stop trying to console him, even if by distraction. Her voice lulled Kurapika into a calmer state, heartbeat quieting and breaths slowing. Which was why she was dangerous. "Mm."

Melody had helped him comb through postings online the past few weeks, seeking a position with flexible hours and good pay, and that he didn't need a car to get to. The only position that seemed reasonable was as a babysitter, or so he'd said to her, and Melody gave him a look because she knew exactly what his plan was. And yet, she still helped him.

Oito Hui Guo Rou was a sweet woman about a decade older than him, the eighth wife of one of the prominent hotel owners in the city. Eighth meaning he'd divorced like seven before her, but Kurapika didn't particularly concern himself with that. Their daughter Woble was a chubby baby who'd smiled and reached for Kurapika at the end of the interview.

" _That's amazing," Oito said, shock on her features. "She doesn't like strangers_ _—I thought_ _—I thought she would create a fuss, but_ _—"_

 _Kurapika reached out for the baby, who settled happily in his arms. It felt good, to hold another human being, warm, to protect them, to know that they deserved to be cherished. Kurapika couldn't recall that feeling in years._

"Why does she want a nanny?" asked Melody, stirring her tea. The spoon clinked in a rhythm.

"She said she wants to take a class," said Kurapika with a shrug. "Try her hand at something new, I suppose."

"Hm." Melody settled back, a frown on her face.

"What?" Kurapika asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing. I'm happy for you. It'll be good, I feel."

If only. But now that relief he thought he had—the justice he'd gone to such lengths to procure—it had caved beneath the expertise of a lawyer that enough money bought.

That was how the world was.

 _Well, I can't stand it_.

"Kurapika," Melody said. "Are you going to let them go and focus on getting the rubies back?"

Kurapika swallowed. "I promised that's what I'd do."

Melody sighed. "Please tell me you don't plan on stealing them back."

"I doubt very much Oito's husband will just hand them over if I ask nicely," Kurapika pointed out. "Although, can you steal something that belongs to you by right?"

Melody's eyes bore into him.

"No," said Kurapika. "I don't plan to steal them." He planned to expose the stupid rude man to the police, expose his underworld dealings because there was no way he would have been able to get those Kurta rubies legally. They were stolen property. And he didn't want to discuss the lengths he had gone to to get that information, not with Melody, not with anyone, not even with himself. It was best forgotten.

Melody exhaled. "When do you start?"

Kurapika finished his tea. The burn from earlier stung. "Tonight."

 _They're free. They're all free. They're probably going to get beer and celebrate and I have work out a plan to find information on Oito's husband._ Because they might be the ones leaving a physical prison, but Kurapika knew he was in for a life sentence. His parents would not have died if it were not for Chrollo Lucilfer.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Melody asked.

Kurapika shook his head. "I'm not going to do anything rash, okay?" He grabbed his bookbag, devoid of books. "See you later."

"Has there ever been a time you haven't acted rashly?"

He didn't want to answer her.

* * *

"Ah, you're here early!" Oito rushed towards him, Woble on her hip.

"Is that all right?" Kurapika asked, taking note of the house's opulence. A golden chandelier glittered above an oriental carpet and leather couches.

"Of course, of course," said Oito. She glanced nervously up towards the staircase. Kurapika spotted a corpulent man standing there, looking down. _Nasubi_. Head of Kakin Hotels, a luxury chain and according to his information, someone from that chain procured Kurapika's family heirlooms last year.

"Where are you going?" Nasubi demanded.

"I have class tonight," Oito said. Woble whimpered. "You said you didn't mind if I spent my allowance on that instead of on clothes, dear."

"Oh. Right." Nasubi shrugged."Well, it's your allowance. You'll fail the class and I won't give you more money until next month no matter how much you want a new pair of shoes."

Oito lowered her face. She swallowed.

 _Excuse me?_ Kurapika's eyes bulged.

"This is Kurapika," said Oito, straightening. "I checked his references—he'll be watching Woble tonight, so you won't have to."

Nasubi nodded, turning and heading back into a sitting room upstairs.

 _Isn't Woble your daughter?_ Kurapika wondered. _But you don't care to spend time with her?_ He thought of Gon, and his father. His stomach pinched. _Bastard_. "Are you okay?"

Oito gave him a sad smile. "Of course. He just—he's not wrong," she managed. A crease formed in her forehead. "I was rather a shallow woman, until I had Woble. She makes me want to be better. That's why I'm going to this class."

The pieces started to appear in Kurapika's mind. He nodded.

Woble reached out for Kurapika again, chubby fingers splayed. A smile broke through the cloud pressing down on Kurapika. He took her and she cooed, grabbing a fistful of his hair.

Oito laughed. "She likes you."

Kurapika hummed a lullaby. One his parents used to sing to him, and Pairo. The song sounded less haunting when he wasn't alone, when he was humming it to a baby. Oito dashed out the door, and Kurapika spent the next few hours crouching on the floor of the playroom, helping Woble play with blocks. She threw one off his head at one point and Kurapika could only laugh.

Following Oito's instructions, he went to get food for the baby after two hours. Mashed apples. Woble gurgled. He wiped her chin, using the spoon as an airplane. She giggled as if it was the funniest thing ever. He poked her nose.

"Who is _this?"_ The voice rippled through the kitchen like ink spilling through clear water. Kurapika's stomach clenched. He rose. A young man with stringy light hair crossed his arms, peering at him. Woble burst into tears.

"Oh, no," Kurapika said, reaching down to unbuckle Woble from her high chair. He bounced her in his arms. "Shh, shh, it's okay, Woble."

"I said, who are you, and why are you holding my sister?"

 _Sister?_ This man looked like he was around Oito's age. Oh, right. Eight wives. "I'm—Kurapika. I'm babysitting for Oito."

Woble scrunched up her face, wailing. Kurapika rubbed her back.

"Oito didn't mention that to me." The man took a step closer.

Woble was now screaming, and Kurapika found himself taking a step back. "She mentioned it to your father. He's upstairs."

"Hm." The man regarded him. "I'm Tserriednich Hui Guo Rou."

"Nice to meet you." Kurapika tried to keep his tone light for Woble's sake. The sliding doors in the back of the kitchen opened up into an expansive, empty, dark lawn. Kurapika almost felt the urge to run.

"And why would she need to take a class?" asked Tserriednich. "You're not her lover, are you?"

"What?" Kurapika's jaw dropped. "I just met her today! No!"

"You can tell me, Kurapika," crooned the man, coming closer. Kurapika tightened his grip on Woble. "Is she planning on leaving my father? That harlot was always—"

 _Seriously? Harlot? Is this the 1800s_?

"Give her to me," Tserriednich offered, reaching for Woble. "I can calm that brat down."

Woble buried her face into Kurapika's shoulder. Her tears felt hot against his shirt. "I can handle it."

"G—"

"No," Kurapika snapped.

"You're awfully insolent for someone who just—"

The front door slammed open, and a group of other adults and teenagers poured in. More stepkids of Oito's?

Tserriednich turned and followed them. Kurapika soothed Woble, rocking her in his arms. She fell asleep against him, exhausted. Poor baby. His pulse stayed rapid.

When Oito arrived home, she reached for her baby. "Ah! So you got her to sleep?"

Kurapika nodded, handing her over. Woble didn't even stir.

"Did she behave?"

"Of course." Kurapika smiled at the baby. "She was upset when your stepson came, though."

Otio's face paled. "Tserriednich? He's visiting tonight?"

Kurapika nodded. "A bunch of people are. Kids."

Oito glanced around them. Footsteps creaked above them, but no other sounds echoed. "Never let him touch her, Kurapika. I don't trust my stepson." She narrowed her eyes. "And please, don't repeat this."

"I won't," Kurapika promised. He bit his lip. _You are trying to leave him, aren't you? You just want to make sure you can support your daughter first._

Which meant he had less time to figure out a plan to take down Nasubi and get those rubies back. He didn't even know where they were, just that all the paper trails he had been following led to Kakin Hotels. He had to focus on that. Not on...

Woble mewed as she woke up, reaching up to pat her mother's face, and Kurapika's heart melted. He closed his eyes.

 _I'll help you, too. Somehow_.

* * *

"How do you always attract so much drama?" Leorio asked, rubbing his temples as he sat on their threadbare couch, the one Kurapika slept on every night.

 _I shouldn't have said anything._ Kurapika clamped his mouth shut, shame settling inside him. He hadn't intended to open his mouth, but when Leorio asked him about his job—clearly wanting to distract him from the court case—he couldn't keep it inside.

"I didn't mean it like that," Leorio interjected.

Kurapika shrugged. "It's fine, honestly. I'm just babysitting. I don't plan on getting involved beyond helping her do that." A clunk echoed outside.

"Is she being abused?"

"How would I know?" Kurapika just wanted Leorio to go to bed so he could sleep. A couch was still more comfortable than the streets.

"Finding dirt on Tserriednich or on Nasubi would help her," Leorio mused.

"That's my plan," Kurapika said. Woble would just need to nap at some point when he was babysitting and he could snoop around. But Woble came first. Because he always put other people and their well being first. Always. He wouldn't be so careless.

"Are you going to bed already?" Leorio asked. "It's not even nine yet."

"I'm tired."

Leorio moved into his room to study, and Kurapika curled up on the couch, tugging the musty blanket over his face. He used to do that when he first moved in here, so Leorio wouldn't see or hear him crying.

But now, though his eyes ached, he couldn't remember the last time he was able to cry.

 _I'm a dead man walking._ But he couldn't die until he'd found the rubies. He needed to, for his parents' sake.

He remembered that the three thieves had gotten off. Not enough evidence. Or whatever. His stomach clamped and he curled up tighter.

Tonight, he wished he wouldn't wake up. But he had a job to do before he could rest for good.

* * *

Everyone around him laughed, and so the sound bubbled up inside him too, even if he couldn't open his mouth and let it out. Chrollo smiled, watching as Phinks challenged Machi to a drinking contest and Feitan rolled his eyes. Franklin and Bolonenov worked on a story in the background despite the din. Shizuku laughed with Shalnark.

Shalnark, Pakunoda, and Kortopi were back. Free. Finally. That lawyer came through in the end, and Chrollo hadn't let them down.

Uvogin, though...

He sipped the beer he held, the glass cold and wet against his palm. He rested the bottle on his knee. Those Kurta rubies were way more trouble than they were worth, but he didn't feel like thinking about that. It had all worked out in the end. Except for Uvo.

Chrollo's phone buzzed. He frowned, reaching for it.

Three missed calls, all from the same number. Chrollo sighed as his phone refused to work and let the call go to voicemail again. He rose and headed outside Machi's. The air felt warm, like spring's first blush. Buds formed on the cherry blossom tree in Machi's front yard, though they hadn't yet bloomed.

Chrollo stopped. A figure sat by the door, smoking. "Nobunaga."

The older man turned to him. "Danchou."

Chrollo said nothing. He leaned against the railing. The breeze ruffled his hair.

"I wish he was here," said Nobunaga. "He would've been drunker than a skunk by now."

A smile curled Chrollo's lips. "Probably ranting about the food in prison."

"Bet it sucks," said Nobunaga.

"Still better than Franklin's."

Nobunaga let out a barking laugh. "I guess I'll go back in. Got a phone call to make?"

Chrollo held up his phone. "Yeah."

The door closed behind his friend, and Nobunaga's words echoed inside of him like a scream in a cave. _I wish you weren't dead, Uvogin._

But he was going to honor Uvogin. He would. Uvogin was one of his best reporters. He helped Chrollo expose those thugs in Meteor City, rob enough people in town to get the money to move to Yorkshin.

Chrollo called the number back. "Isn't it a school night? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Shut up; it's early yet," snapped the voice of Kalluto Zoldyck, the younger brother of his ex-friend Illumi Zoldyck. _Ex_ because while Chrollo had no problem with Illumi personally, Illumi was marrying Hisoka Morow, who even more so than Kurapika Kurta was responsible for putting Shalnark, Kortopi, and Paku in prison just because he couldn't get over the fact that Chrollo beat him in a wrestling match. Okay, so Chrollo had cheated by drugging him beforehand.

But Illumi still let Kalluto run errands for Chrollo, on the condition that Kalluto would do nothing dangerous. Mostly Chrollo had the kid deciphering Bolonenov's chicken scratch handwriting and typing it up, formatting photographs for their website, etc. And of course, reporting on the principal of his middle school, Pariston Hill. It wouldn't be long now until Chrollo saw that particular scumbag suffer.

"I went to deliver the invitations tonight," Kalluto said.

"Invitations?" Chrollo stared up at the sky. Not a star in sight. When he was younger, he used to imagine it was because the stars were all sleeping. He had names for them, back then.

"For Hisoka and Illumi's wedding."

"Oh. That."

"Yeah," said Kalluto. "And Alluka and I were going to drop them off at the post office, but I went in person to drop it off at Leorio and Kurapika's because Kurapika hasn't seen Killua in months and I wanted to yell at him for it—"

"Oh, did you?" Chrollo had a few suggestions for things Kalluto could say to Kurapika Kurta.

"No, because when I got there, I heard them talking about Nasubi Hui Guo Rou. His wife's leaving him."

"Does that make number eight?" Chrollo asked. He knew the rumors about the hotel millionaire and his inability to hold down a marriage for longer than a few years and one or at the most two kids.

"Yeah, but she hasn't done it yet, and Kurapika's working for her babysitting so she can take the class, and one of the stepsons—T-something—accused Kurapika of having an affair with her. Didn't sound like he was though, from what Kurapika told Leorio." Kalluto drew in his breath. "I just thought it would be a good opportunity to—"

"It is interesting," Chrollo confirmed. He wasn't much a fan of people in power, tycoons who thought themselves gods, untouchable. "Thank you, Kalluto." If Kurapika Kurta had been having an affair Chrollo would jump to publish that article as soon as he fucking could. Kalluto clearly was getting fed up with Kurapika being a shitty friend to Killua. But it would be massively out of character for Kurta, and Kalluto was probably right.

That didn't mean there was nothing worth checking into, though, on the Hui Guo Rou side of things. That conversation sounded rife with family secrets, and as the Zoldyck disaster had shown Chrollo over the past year, and as he knew from all his years reporting, what held an institute or a family together was not love or blood, but secrets.


	2. Chord

Kurapika woke up to his alarm's staccato beeps. His neck felt stiff and his head felt like someone took sandpaper and then salt to his sinuses. He dragged himself off the couch. He had an early morning class and scrambled to get ready. When he opened the door to leave, two envelopes fell out of the doorway.

 _Did someone tuck them in there?_ Kurapika frowned. "Leorio?"

"Hm?" Leorio stumbled out of his bedroom and into their tiny kitchen. He dropped a mug on the floor. "Drat!"

"These arrived." Kurapika waved them around.

Leorio's eyes widened. "They must be the wedding invitations!"

 _Oh_. Kurapika let out a sigh of relief. He tore open the royal blue envelope.

"I wonder what Illumi had to promise Hisoka to get them to be so proper," Leorio mused. "I'd have expected, like, jack-in-the-boxes."

"Nothing I want to know about," Kurapika responded.

"Ooh, I get a plus one," Leorio said.

"Really?" Kurapika frowned. "Do you actually plan on using it?" He remembered the one time Leorio was dazzled by that girl on the streets, the one with bright pink pigtails, and then she stole all the money off Leorio and Kurapika too. Since then Kurapika didn't trust Leorio to date.

"Of course!" Leorio threw his arms out. Dressed in plaid pajama bottoms and a stained t-shirt, hair rumpled from sleep, he looked hilarious. Kurapika couldn't keep from smiling. "I'll just have to think about how to pick the right girl."

Kurapika rolled his eyes. "Do you have your internship tonight?"

"Yeah. I'll be home late." Leorio was interning for Dr. Cheadle Yorkshire, a therapist. "You have babysitting?"

Kurapika shook his head. "Tomorrow."

Leorio pulled out his laptop, an old beast of a machine he got secondhand, and turned it on. Kurapika caught a glimpse of the front page of the news, and instantly his mood soured.

 _They got off._

Everything was futile. It wouldn't matter how hard he worked.

He had to get these rubies. No matter what. Otherwise, for what purpose had he not been in the car that night?

He was supposed to be with them. He was supposed to die. But he was avoiding home, because his parents had been fighting lately, fighting ever since the police started investigating them for insurance fraud. And when his cousin Pairo called him and Kurapika mumbled something about being on his way and Pairo read through the lines as he always did, picked up on how stressed Kurapika was, he told Kurapika's parents Kurapika had to help a friend with a project at the library.

He got home and he waited and waited for them, and then the police called.

 _Pairo, too…_

 _Why?_

He'd screamed that question so many times to any god that was out there, and none deigned to answer.

The air in his lungs felt robbed from someone else. Kurapika flexed his hands. He slipped into his lecture hall, sitting down next to Melody. She smiled. She'd survived a car accident, too, on her way back from a concert with a friend years ago. It left her disfigured and her best friend dead, but she seemed to have less guilt than Kurapika. And she shouldn't feel guilty. She never thought her friend was making her life difficult, like he thought about his parents and their scandal.

 _I didn't deserve to be their son_.

No. That wasn't true. If it weren't for those damn bastards, he would still have parents. And a home. Kurapika bit his lip so hard he drew blood.

The lecture droned in one ear and out the next.

* * *

"Kalluto said what?" Machi pushed her coffee across the counter. Feitan scowled next to her, scarf pulled up like it was frigid out when in reality spring was starting to bleed through.

Chrollo relayed the story. Phinks rubbed his head as if he was hungover from the night before. These three would be enough.

"I mean, it's not much to go on," Phinks mumbled.

"Kalluto's instincts good," Feitan said, adjusting his rumpled shirt. He looked as if he'd slept in his clothes. Which he probably had. Chrollo remembered the days where they only had the clothes on their backs, when the four of them, Paku, Shalnark, and Uvogin ran through Meteor City together.

"Kalluto's eleven," Machi said, crossing her arms over her chest. "He's smart, but he's eleven."

Feitan glanced at her.

She glared back. "What? He's a kid."

"Fair," said Chrollo. "But I would love to go after Nasubi and his son."

"Tserriednich is a bastard," said Phinks. "I heard he has a habit of paying off bouncers at strip joints around the city. So then he can do what he wants."

"I heard he pushed one of his sisters down a flight of stairs," said Machi. "Paid off her mother, though. Who isn't his mother. The girl died."

"He also has rubies," said Feitan.

"Hm?" Chrollo's eyes widened. That couldn't be. That—unless—

 _Well, that explains Kurta's presence._

"I track them," Feitan said. "When they were arrested. Uvo. Shalnark. Kortopi. Paku. Through underground channels. He has them."

"Well, I suppose we might have an interest in this job after all," Chrollo mused. If they could create a blackmail situation for Nasubi and expose Tserriednich, that would help Paku, Kortopi, and Shalnark get back on their feet. And the world would be better off without Tserriednich. Uvogin would like that. And maybe if the police got those rubies back Kurta would call off his crusade against them, because Chrollo was not stupid enough to think the man's sense of justice would let him rest. He knew his type. Warped with self-righteousness, they became the monsters they feared. It was one of Chrollo's favorite types of tragedies to read. _Hamlet_ , etc. But he wasn't going to give the Kurta bastard a chance to lock any of his colleagues up, or worse. He needed all of them to keep his news site running.

Not one was unnecessary. Not one was someone he could afford to waste. Especially not when he just got them back. His chest tightened at the thought and he did not like that sensation at all.

"Why don't we investigate the situation?" Chrollo suggested, leaning forward. The pressure in his chest eased. "It sounds like the wife might be more than willing to talk."

Phinks did some quick work hacking, and with a copy of Nasubi's work schedule and the promise of a lengthy meeting tomorrow afternoon, Chrollo marked it on his calendar to find Oito Hui Guo Rou and pick her brain.

They rode over on the subway together the next day, crowded with sweaty workers rushing to and from their jobs. Chrollo paged through _The Brothers Karamazov_. A decent book. He rather liked Ivan. Dmitri reminded him too much of Hisoka, only far less intelligent.

The Hui Guo Gou mansion loomed ahead, sprawling and larger than Chrollo's house by seven times at least. Phinks's eyes lit up as he took in the gardens. Chrollo knocked on the door a pen behind his ear and a cloth wrapped around his forehead to cover up his tattoo. Not that he would try to hide his identity, but these types of folks tended to take him more seriously when—

The door opened, and Kurapika Kurta's face greeted him.

"Oh fuck," said Feitan.

The door slammed in Chrollo's face.

This dropping feeling in his stomach—was this shock? Chrollo tightened his jaw. So Kurapika was there. Was Kalluto wrong? Was—

He rapped on the door again.

"What are you doing?" hissed Machi. "We should go—it's—"

"We could write a very interesting story on this itself," Feitan mused.

It wouldn't be enough. Chrollo wanted to see his face, see his face now that he knew that his efforts were in vain and his friends were—this had to happen for a reason, a purpose, and Chrollo would not see it wasted.

The door flung open again. A woman with wide oval eyes and designer clothing blinked at them. "Can I help you?"

Phinks drew in his breath. A baby giggled in the background.

"Oito Hui Guo Rou?" ventured Machi. She stuck out her hand, stepping backwards onto Feitan's toes as if to chastise him. "I'm Machi Komacine, a reporter for—"

"Yes, my babysitter just told me you all work for the Spider," Oito said, worrying her lip. "I'm afraid I can't help you—my husband isn't at home right now, and I'm trying to study for a class I'm taking."

"What class?" Phinks asked.

Oito frowned. "I can give you my husband's number if you'd—"

"We don't want to talk to him," Chrollo said, heart still beating fast. Where was that rotten Kurta? "We'd rather talk to you."

Oito wrung her hands. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

 _Ah_. Chrollo could see the telltale signs. Bags under her eyes, carefully smeared with concealer. A sag to her lips brought on not by age but by sorrow. Not a hair out of place. The woman was terrified.

"You tryin' to leave your husband, aren't you?" asked Feitan, cruelly. Chrollo bit his tongue. That was not how he would have gone about it.

"You can't possibly report that!" Oito's jaw dropped.

"We wouldn't," Phinks assured her. Machi's brow drew together. Feitan cocked his head. "I mean," Phinks stammered. "We—we're—we've heard things—about your husband—"

"Please leave," Oito commanded, her voice wobbling.

"We have no intention of risking your safety," Chrollo said smoothly, adopting the same tone he used with Neon, with all those other people. It put them at ease.

"I'm afraid I don't—"

"We can help you," Machi said, picking up on Chrollo's cues because her emotions were not useless unlike Phinks's and Feitan's. "Let us help you, and your daughter."

So Machi did her research. Of course. Oito swallowed, and then stepped back to let them inside.

"Oito?" Kurapika looked up from where he was sitting on the living room floor. A baby sat in his lap, a picture book open in front of them. "What—"

"They said they were going to help," Oito said.

Kurapika's mouth opened and closed like a fish's. "They're reporters. Are you certain you can trust them?"

So Oito didn't know everything about her babysitter, and he'd like to keep it that way. Chrollo nodded to himself.

"We want to write a story on your husband, and your stepson," said Machi. "Tserriednich. We've heard things and plan on—"

"Do you want some tea?" Oito blurted out. Kurapika started to rise, but the baby let out a screech. "Kurapika, it's okay."

Kurapika looked as if he had swallowed a grenade. He settled back down. The baby reached up her arms, patting his face. He smiled at her, though his spine remained stiff.

"We're fine," Feitan stated. Machi again crunched his foot. He glowered at her.

"I see," said Oito, gesturing for them to sit down at the table in the kitchen, glamorous with new appliances and decorated with statues and paintings of all sorts of curious—and occasionally grotesque—beasts.

Kurapika's voice echoed in the background. He was reading a story to the baby, about a king and queen. His voice changed inflection to highlight the exciting parts. The baby chortled, though she wasn't yet at an age when she could understand any of it.

Books had always been Chrollo's escape, too.

He focused on Oito. "We've heard rumors of your husband and stepson, and rumors that you plan to leave him, but you need to support yourself. If he goes to jail, you'd get all his money, and—"

"No," said Oito. "I wouldn't. Because he's massively in debt right now."

Machi's mouth opened. She pressed record on her phone. Kurapika glared from the living room as he sang a lullaby.

"I can't say more. I shouldn't have said that." Oito clamped her hand over her mouth.

"We won't report anything unless you give us permission to," Phinks assured her.

"We won't?" asked Feitan.

Phinks glared. "Of course not."

"From my understanding," said Oito. "That's not how you usually operate. Yes, I do pay attention to things. I'm not merely a silly shallow woman—not anymore." She glanced over her shoulder at her daughter, whom Kurapika was now lifting in the air and twirling around.

 _So you're truly desperate to talk to us_. "Why don't we avoid questions about your husband?" suggested Chrollo. "We can discuss your stepson instead."

"I don't follow his whereabouts much," said Oito. "He comes and goes as he pleases, but he doesn't—after what he did to Momoze—I don't let him near Woble."

"What did happen?" asked Chrollo.

Oito launched into the story about him throwing the middle school girl down a flight of stairs, how she called for an ambulance, how he claimed she'd tripped. "He was charming when I first met him, when I was dating his father."

"How long have you been married?" Chrollo asked.

"Eighteen months." Oito looked at her hands, which she was wringing. "I would say it was the biggest mistake of my life, but it wasn't. I have Woble now."

The baby reached for Kurapika's puffed-out cheeks, pushing them in. She giggled as Kurapika made another face.

"Kurapika," called Oito. "My stepson threatened you the other night, didn't he?"

Kurapika stiffened. "His demeanor was a bit—threatening, yes, but he didn't actually say anything." His face reddened.

Chrollo remembered what Kalluto had said Kurapika told Leorio. He leaned back in his chair. "So tell me, Kurapika, what did he say?" _Will you lie? Will you tell the truth?_ He tapped a pen against his chin.

"He asked if you planned to leave Nasubi," said Kurapika, hoisting Woble up on his hip. She grabbed a fistful of his hair. "Woble was upset and he wanted to hold her, but she seemed afraid of him." He removed his hair from Woble's mouth.

"Anything else?" Chrollo asked sweetly.

Kurapika's eyes narrowed. He studied his shoes. "He insulted you."

"Not surprising," Oito said wryly. "He doesn't like many people."

Chrollo considered pressing to ask for details. Not a good idea. He might just alienate Oito then. But at least now Kurapika should be worried that they were watching him. _Back off, Kurta_. "Who else could we speak to?" asked Chrollo.

When they left, Phinks fumbled to give Oito his card. "In case you need anything, or have anything else to chat about. We'll leave you alone for most of the investigation."

"Thank you."

Feitan side-eyed Phinks. He tugged up his scarf again, covering his mouth and nose.

Chrollo bid them farewell and headed to a local cafe, pulling out his laptop and getting to work. His favorite coffee shop had a musty smell to it from all the old books lining the walls. Heavy drapes covered the windows, and wooden beams gave it a rustic feel.

A clank echoed.

Chrollo lifted his eyes. "Oh?"

Kurapika stood there, glaring down at him.

"Do you have something to say?" Chrollo asked. "Because this table is taken."

Kurapika yanked the chair back across from him and sat in it. He gripped the cup of iced tea in his hands, looking as if it was taking all his self control not to stab Chrollo right there, in this dank cafe.

"I won't even ask how you know this is my favorite cafe," Chrollo muttered.

"I don't trust what you're doing," Kurapika said. "Whatever you're up to—if you hurt Oito, I hope you know that there's a child at risk too, in this situation. A _child_. A baby. And if you tell that stepson that she wants to leave—"

"Awfully protective of her, aren't you?" Chrollo taunted.

Kurapika's eyes and face turn scarlet. They said the Kurtas were given rubies centuries ago because of the hue in their eyes. People used to think they were gods. And now, the gods were six feet under, rotting. "I resent that implication. It's demeaning even for you."

"It's not even her you want to protect, is it?" Chrollo asked. _You care about that kid_. Okay, Woble was cute.

"She doesn't know anything," said Kurapika, azure shirt setting off his golden hair. "About me, about you, so don't go after her to get back at me, okay?"

Enough of this brat's pretentious double standards. He slammed his laptop shut. "You seem to be assuming I'm you," Chrollo retorted. "Assuming I'd go after someone else close to someone because of something they did to you."

Kurapika's face scrunched up. "You're the worst. You thought nothing of what you did would do to my family—"

"Your family had choices."

"So did your friends, and don't pretend they weren't involved!"

"Uvogin," Chrollo snapped. "Is dead because of your pathetic attempt to use Hisoka's bitterness to enact 'justice.' Tell me, what exactly is the difference between what happened to your parents and what happened to him?"

"Don't pretend you know a fraction of what I feel," Kurapika hissed. His knuckles whitened.

"Please leave," Chrollo stated. He felt tired.

"Not until I know you won't hurt—"

"And what exactly do you want to prove that I won't hurt them? A contract?" Chrollo opened his laptop again. "I'll email you one, though we all know it won't mean anything to you or to me. But tell me, Kurapika, do you plan on stealing those rubies?"

Kurapika's jaw fell open.

"Did you really think we wouldn't know?"

"You don't know half as much as you think you do," Kurapika snapped. "I plan on—on—" He swallowed.

"What, is it not stealing if you already owned them once?"

"I'm not like you! I'm not going to steal anything!" Kurapika dropped his voice.

How interesting. "So you're targeting Nasubi and Tserriednich too," Chrollo concluded. "How lucky for you that she seems to support that idea. What if he was a nice guy and she loved him and Woble adored him?"

Kurapika stood. He held up his middle finger.

"Classy," commented Chrollo. "If you find anything useful, be sure to let us know. If it will benefit you, that is, I'm sure you will."

"Fuck you."

"Now, between that and the hand gesture, you're just being redundant."

"You know nothing about me but I know you're a thief and—"

"I know you're someone who got four of my friends put in prison because of something they did back in college," Chrollo snapped, eyes meeting Kurapika's. "That's all I need to know."

Kurapika swallowed. His face grayed. He turned and stormed out.

His iced tea stayed on the table. Chrollo shrugged and grabbed it. If he thought Chrollo was nothing but a thief—well, it'd be a shame to let good tea go to waste.


	3. Tuning

_**Breathe in, breathe out**_

 _ **Your lips so cold**_

 _ **Your street, our house where we begin**_

 _ **We're kids and you're whole**_

 _ **We won't be alone, no one can ever know**_

 _ **Standing you're what I'm falling for**_

 _ **But you'll never put it down**_

 _ **~"Lovers," Timecop1983**_

* * *

He woke when it was still dark out, but the gurgle of indigestion told Kurapika he wasn't going back to sleep. He pushed himself up on his elbows and reached for his phone. 5:43. April 4th.

His birthday.

 _I'm eighteen_. An adult. Kurapika flopped back down on the couch. He didn't remember the last time he felt like a child.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he let memories take hold of him. Birthdays were never a big thing in his family, but his parents would give him a card, some money—though they never had much, as the rubies were not to be touched and his father's job had never been monetarily successful—and tell him _happy birthday_.

He pressed his forearm over his eyes. They throbbed.

It was his thirteenth birthday when they took him out for ramen, and when they got home, the rubies were gone. A few weeks later, and the police had found records suggesting insurance fraud. Kurapika remembered waking up one Saturday morning and the police putting his parents in handcuffs.

He screamed, and no one cared. His mother cried, and no one cared. His father begged, and no one cared.

After that, his father lost his job. After that, his father drank. After that, he, always so cautious and the type to scold Kurapika's mother for letting Kurapika go to the library on his own, drove drunk.

Pairo sat with him in the police station that first day, the one after his birthday, when he still hoped things would get better. No words, just arms around him, a head on Kurapika's shoulder. Within two months, his parents were gone, and Pairo's parents, his aunt and uncle. And Pairo. His only friend, because Kurapika had always been homeschooled and not a particularly outgoing child besides. Most neighborhood kids mocked Pairo for his extremely poor eyesight, and his damaged legs. Kurapika knew Pairo saw more things than he did.

The legs, the eyes—they were Kurapika's fault. He was going to earn enough money to help Pairo someday get the latest treatments. But now Pairo was dead, too. He couldn't see from those eyes at all anymore.

And now, another year he would have to endure with cement chain of grief around his heart. Another year distancing himself from his family, from hearing their voices.

 _Mommy. Daddy. I miss you._

 _I'm so sorry._

He dragged himself up eventually, hobbling into the shower. It was a Saturday, so he had no classes, and Oito didn't need him to watch Woble that day. He wished she did. He wanted to distract himself, and seeing how much Oito loved Woble, how she was willing to risk anything for her—he respected that trait. And envied it.

Kurapika stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying his hair. He froze.

" _Happy Birthday!"_ crowed five voices.

His jaw hung open. Arms swung around him. Kurapika struggled to breathe. _How_ —

"Told you I could keep a secret!" bragged Leorio. "See, he had no idea!"

"Hmph." Killua grinned up at Kurapika. Gon was still hugging him. Melody stood in the back, frosted cupcakes in a tin on the table. Alluka clapped her hands.

"I don't understand," Kurapika whispered.

"It's your birthday, silly!" Gon chastised him. "So we are gonna celebrate!"

"Wh-why?"

"Because we're your friends, dumbass," said Killua. "Even if you've forgotten us."

"And we're going to an amusement park!" chirped Gon.

A lump grew in Kurapika's throat. Pairo would have been like this. And Kurapika—once, he snuck into Pairo's house for his birthday, his twelfth birthday, a year before everything fell apart, and he surprised Pairo with the fruit of half a year's worth of saving his meager allowance: tickets to Yorkshin's amusement park.

Had he told Gon and Killua that story?

No. He told Leorio. Leorio rubbed the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his face as Kurapika glanced at him.

"You have to have fun today," Gon informed him.

"You can't dictate someone have fun, Gon," complained Killua.

"Can too!"

"Can not!"

"Yes, Illumi gave permission," Leorio whispered. "Still creepy, that brother of Killua's."

Kurapika smiled. He pushed the voices of his parents, of Pairo, always accusing, to the corners of his mind. "Well, if I have to, I have to."

 _I don't deserve your friendship. Not any of yours_. But he had it, and he didn't want to argue today.

An afternoon of watching Leorio scream on roller coasters and Killua and Gon compete to see who could eat the most ice cream (Killua won when Gon threw up), and Kurapika didn't remember the last time he laughed so much. His stomach hurt from it. Melody beamed up at him.

Leorio insisted on taking them out for healthy food after, though his idea of healthy food was a barbeque place. They gave him gifts then, and Kurapika's face burned. He didn't know why they were giving him more gifts.

Books. They gave him books. _Les Misérables, Howard's End, The Setting Sun_. Kurapika grinned. _I don't understand._

 _But thank you._

Kurapika excused himself to go to the restroom. As he washed his hands, water falling cool over his slightly sunburned skin, a hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Fancy meeting you here."

Kurapika sucked in his breath. _Fuck_.

Tserriednich Hui Guo Rou leered down at him. Kurapika forced himself to nod at the man. "Nice to see you." A lie. He hadn't seen the man around the past two weeks, but—

"Indeed," said the man, rubbing his chin. "Here with your friends?"

"Yes," said Kurapika, heart pounding.

"I have a proposition for you," Tserriednich said, tugging at his hair.

Kurapika blinked. "Excuse me?" If he meant what Kurapika thought he did, he might just kick him in the balls.

"I'd like you to find out what my stepmother is up to. She seems to trust you because she's a fool like that, but—"

"I don't understand," Kurapika stammered. "You—"

"Cut the crap. I know she's smarter than she comes across." Tserriednich's hand dug into his shoulder.

Kurapika gripped the man's wrist and removed it from his shoulder. "She's my employer." _Don't test me, prick._

"And you're so loyal?" crooned Tserriednich. "How much is she paying you? I can pay more."

"Why don't you like her?" asked Kurapika.

Tserriednich blinked. "She was dumb enough to marry my father."

 _And she's smart enough for you to feel threatened_. "Don't you work for him?" Kurapika asked. "Kakin Hotels?"

"Not for much longer." He gave Kurapika a cold smile.

What the hell? The walls and bright lights of the bathroom closed in around Kurapika. He swallowed and coughed. "I don't understand." _I don't know, I don't know what to do!_

Tserriednich smiled.

 _Do you have a mustache to twirl?_ Kurapika pushed past him. The door seemed so far away.

"My offer still stands," called the man. " _Kurta_."

 _Fuck_. Kurapika spun around. Had he figured out that he knew about the rubies? Maybe. Maybe not. He couldn't tell, and panic bit into him. How much did he know about Kurapika?

"Don't let me keep you from your party," cooed the man. "Happy Birthday."

That he would say such a thing—sully something that his friends were trying so, so, so hard to turn into something joyous for him, when he couldn't, and now they'd failed and they didn't deserve to fail—Kurapika marched towards him.

Tserriednich's brows rose. "I—"

Kurapika punched him across the face. A crack echoed. Blood spurted from his nose. And Tserriednich let out a guffaw.

 _What have I done?_ Kurapika took a step back.

"You really," panted Tserriednich, clutching his face, red ribbons streaming between his fingers, winding across his hand and down his arm. "Shouldn't have done that."

"You shouldn't fuck with me," Kurapika snarled. _I'm so screwed._ He turned and rushed out of the bathroom. _Fuck._

He should text Oito. He needed to tell her before Tserriednich could. But. But. As he walked back towards the table, saw Leorio waving at him and Gon and Killua bickering, Alluka drawing something for Melody, he thought how he just wanted to smile again, if only for another hour.

Leorio frowned. "Are you all right?"

Kurapika hid his hand and its bruised knuckles in his pocket. "Mm, yeah." He slipped back into his seat.

 _I don't want to put Oito in the middle of this._

 _What do I do? What do I say?_

 _Why can't I just smile?_

* * *

Chrollo headed to his favorite café again, late at night this time. He had just reached the part where Grushenka was now sticking by Dmitri in _The Brothers Karamazov_. Poor girl. Or was she? She was such a fascinating character and he couldn't decide if Hisoka was more her or Dmitri.

He ordered his almond oolong, hot and black with a spoonful of sugar like he liked it, and turned to find his normal seat occupied.

By a man with blond hair and a bitter scowl stamped into his face.

 _Kurta._

"Well, I can't say this is not a surprise," Chrollo said, taking the seat opposite him. "Or am I mistaken, and you simply came to enjoy the atmosphere?"

Kurapika pushed his iced tea—half-consumed this time—away from him. "I have a pretty good idea of your habits."

"Do tell," said Chrollo, leaning back in his chair. "Since I'm curious how flawed your perception is."

Kurapika pressed his lips together. "You're a dick whose life is his work."

"I have other body parts, though about the latter you're partially correct." His work, or the work everyone in his employ could do?

"You like to write here, and you always carry around two books with you at a minimum. You sometimes stand around a church but you never go in. It's the only time you're ever alone aside from when you sleep or when you're here. You usually have at least two—I won't call them friends—with you."

"And what would you call the people you hang around with?" Chrollo asked, drumming his fingers. "You're wrong, though. I only need one book. The other is a notebook that I use to take notes in. And I have been in the church, but only to get the information I needed, so once."

Kurapika scowled. "I have friends."

Chrollo cocked his head. "You don't ever seem to be around them unless they initiate."

"Are you stalking me?"

"No, but clearly you were stalking me." Chrollo took a sip of his tea. "And now, please. Tell me why you are here, because I think we both know it isn't to chat about me or how nice the tea is here."

Kurapika drank some more of his tea as if to spite Chrollo. "How's your investigation into Tserriednich going?"

"Now why would I tell you?"

Kurapika let out an exasperated sigh. "He threatened—he hates Oito and tried to hire me to report on her. And he said his father wouldn't be in charge of Kakin Hotels much longer but wouldn't answer when I asked him what he meant."

Well, this was certainly interesting. Chrollo pulled out his notebook. "And?"

"And I punched him."

Chrollo couldn't contain a laugh. "You what?"

"I don't want to endanger Oito—but I don't know what he'll do—"

"Okay, as someone who hates you, let me tell you that I advise you to change nothing and keep acting so rashly, so I can report on your dead body sometime in the next few weeks," Chrollo said.

"Excuse me?"

The tea's sweet scent wafted up to his nose. Chrollo pushed it away from him. "I mean, you can't be a dumbass about investigating. Which, I'll give you that you're good at it. But you can't respond to every provocation or you'll eventually piss off the wrong people."

Kurapika squirmed. "I—"

"Was it some sort of taunt about your parents?"

"He knows," Kurapika said. "But no. He told me happy birthday."

Chrollo definitely couldn't keep himself from laughing now. "Only you would be pissed at that."

Kurapika glowered. God, this kid was so angry. "When will you have an article out about those two?"

Chrollo leaned forward. "I don't know. It's hard to get information on Tserriednich. Nasubi's indeed in debt, like a lot in debt, but it's not criminal. Yet." He had an inkling it was. Machi's instincts told her so, and Machi was never wrong. "What, are you worried about him wiping out the Kurta line forever?"

"I couldn't care less about what happens to me. I only care about what he'll do to Oito and to Woble if he actually does kill his father, which is definitely what he was implying. I saw it in his eyes." Kurapika crossed his arms. "I'm not interested in collateral damage."

"Neither am I," said Chrollo. "But it's a byproduct of what I do. You might as well accept that."

"She doesn't deserve to suffer."

"No," Chrollo agreed. "But I've never known the world or any god out there to care about who deserves to suffer when deciding who gets afflicted with the worst kind of burdens. Have you ever read the book of Job? I think you might get something from it."

Kurapika covered his mouth. His hand shook, just barely.

 _Or do you really think you deserve what happened to your parents?_ Chrollo studied him. _You_ do _. You think you deserve it, and they don't._

"Why don't you go to the police, if you're concerned about a murder plot?" Chrollo tried.

"I don't trust them."

"So you're not totally stupid." Chrollo raised his eyebrows. "The world doesn't care about certain people, not if someone can pay them not to, not if they can continue to eat their dinners and drink their wine by shutting the door on them, whereas if they see them they'd have to do something. It's easier not to care."

"You think I wouldn't know? I lived on the streets," Kurapika said. "For months."

"You and me both."

Kurapika's eyes widened. His mouth opened.

Chrollo sipped his tea. "Only it wasn't months for me. It was years."

Kurapika stirred the straw in his tea.

"Or did you think we had cushy lives?" Chrollo asked. "Uvo, Pakunoda, Shalnark—and Phinks, Feitan, and Machi—we all grew up in Meteor City. You know, the city that's forgotten by the world. Half of earth doesn't think it exists and if it is acknowledged it's because they have something or someone they want to dump there."

When he fought Hisoka, that was all he wanted out of him. An admission for what Chrollo already knew. That he was unwanted too. And that was what Chrollo got, and he found he didn't feel like using it against him. He just liked holding onto the option.

"So what, you just decided to make everyone else's life as miserable as yours?" Kurapika demanded. "Make sure other people lost everything?"

Chrollo pressed his palms flat against his thighs. "On the contrary." Did Kurapika Kurta not understand the concept of a chill pill? "I wanted—they needed help, they needed money, and that is all I want to say." He gulped more tea. "Oito Hui Guo Rou is no different. She grew up impoverished as well. It'd be very easy to drag her or to pin a murder on her. This world misses no opportunity to label a woman as a whore or a golddigger or a bitch. It's not fair. Tserriednich knows this, I'm sure."

Kurapika's eyes widened.

Chrollo didn't understand, but he felt a twinge of—was it jealousy?—at Kurapika's faith in justice. He knew by the age of five that there was no fair god looking down on them all. There were only people who knew how to make the best of their lives, and their stories were already written. Some drew worse lots than others.

"So why are you trying to help her, then?"

"I'm not," said Chrollo. The clock ticked in the background. "I'm helping myself, and my friends. We're going to take down Nasubi and Tserriednich, but if you keep interfering, you'll make things worse. It's kind of your special talent."

"Bastard."

"If you keep trying to right the world's wrongs, you'll exhaust yourself and drop dead. You need to accept things."

"What are you even doing?" Kurapika shot back. "You spent all that money trying to save your friends."

"I change things I know I can."

"Because you're an egoist who only thinks of yourself and your own little world."

Chrollo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You know I met Uvogin on the streets when I was around fourteen? He was being beaten by some cops. I yelled to them and distracted them, and he escaped. Later on when I was chased by a shopkeeper who was mad I stole a loaf of bread he knocked them out for me." All he had at that point was the clothes on his back and the books he pulled out of the trash, wiping muck off them, imagining what the words on the missing pages were. And then he had Uvogin, and Paku, and Shalnark. "He was someone who meant something to me, same as your family meant something to you."

He remembered getting the news that he had been killed. He was alone at that time, but soon they were all over his place, all drinking, all cursing Hisoka and Kurapika. _I understand your actions perfectly clearly. I just don't happen to like them._

Kurapika's eyes glittered as he looked towards the light. He swallowed.

 _Do you actually regret it?_ Chrollo blinked. He hadn't expected that. What was the purpose to regret? It had happened. Regret tangled you, tripped you. Regret killed you.

"But you're still helping Oito, regardless of your motives," said Kurapika. "You'll spare her."

"She's not our target, so most likely."

"Guarantee it," Kurapika said. " _Guarantee it."_

"Why, would you trust me?" Chrollo mocked. "I can for my part, but I can't control what my friends do."

"Then let me help," said Kurapika. "I'm in that house multiple times a week. Let me help, and when this is over, you give me the rubies and you leave Oito and Woble alone, and I'll leave you alone. I promise."

 _Now why would you offer to work with people you hate?_

 _Why not? You hate yourself._ "You punched him in the face, right? Do you have some kind of death wish?"

Kurapika got to his feet. "I'm not losing any more friends." His voice shook.

 _You'd just be a liability_. And surely he'd be setting Chrollo up. He didn't trust this man. "She's your employer."

"That baby is innocent, and Tserriednich wouldn't hesitate to hurt her."

 _So you want to protect her. Protect what you can. Do what you can to create that perfect vision of shining justice you have in your mind_. If that was how Kurapika's story was, it would come to a tragic and explosive end without a doubt. But his earnestness was undeniable. And that was something that Chrollo didn't understand.

"All right," said Chrollo.


	4. Serenade

Chrollo unlocked the door to his house with a click. Crickets chirped and an owl hooted, the sounds echoing across the spring night.

He knew the sound of footsteps well. He'd trained himself to always be awakened by them, back when an overhang made for a bedroom and he was too scared to believe in fate. Even after that belief dulled his fears, washed them away, Chrollo had never been able to shake that habit. He whirled around.

A tall figure strode up his driveway. "Ah, Chrollo."

"Illumi," Chrollo said, relaxing. "Your boyfriend isn't around, is he?"

"My _fiancé's_ at home," said Illumi, hair swinging behind him. "I'm here concerning my brother."

"Which one now?" Chrollo gestured for Illumi to follow him inside. He set his laptop down, making a note to keep his phone in his pocket lest Illumi try to fiddle with it on his _fiancé's_ request.

"Kalluto," said Illumi, taking a seat on the edge of Chrollo's leather sofa. "I know he still interns with you, and I'm grateful, because he needs more attention according to Dr. Yorkshire and I can only give him so much with Alluka and Killua, and Milluki when he emerges from his basement cave."

Chrollo dropped into the armchair, crossing his legs. "He's too young to intern. He volunteers. And we are glad to have him." Man, Illumi _had_ been working on himself. It was so intriguing, a plot twist in Illumi's story that Chrollo had never seen coming, not in all the years he had known him, and Chrollo prided himself on his talent in reading people.

Illumi cleared his throat. He nodded. "But I heard from him that you are investigating Tserriednich Hui Guo Rou."

Chrollo let out a sigh. "He should not have told you." He pulled out his phone and checked it. As promised, Kurapika had texted Chrollo his number. The text simply read _here it is -k_.

Illumi scowled. "On the contrary. I am his brother."

Chrollo didn't feel like picking a fight with Illumi. "Okay."

"I thought you were working on Pariston Hill."

"We are. Kalluto is, and Franklin, and Nobunaga—"

"Keep him involved in that," Illumi interrupted. "Do not mix my brother up with Tserriednich. I'm warning you, Lucilfer. I don't have a problem with you, unlike Hisoka, but if you get my brother involved in this I will come for you." Illumi had never particularly struck Chrollo as scary before, but his voice sounded like a barely repressed thunderstorm.

 _Wow._

"I have custody," said Illumi. "If anything happened to him, I couldn't—he's capable of taking care of himself, I know, but Tserriednich is a whole new brand of person even for you and your business."

"I'll keep him working on Pariston Hill. Not on Tserriednich." Chrollo texted Machi and Feitan. They were the two who worked most closely with Kalluto. "I'm texting now about it, okay?"

"Okay." Illumi settled back. "And in thanks, I will tell you what I know about Tserriednich."

"What do you know?" Chrollo dug for his notebook. He popped the cap off his pen.

"I know my grandfather called him the most detestable person he had ever met," Illumi replied, pressing his fingertips together. "And that my parents insured Kakin employees for years."

Chrollo tilted his head. "And would you happen to have those records?"

"I wouldn't be able to give them to you, since I'm still on probation there as a holdover employee and as my parents' son," Illumi said. He swallowed. "But you might want to talk to people who no longer work there."

 _Like your parents_. Except Chrollo was pretty certain Silva Zoldyck hated him for all the articles he'd published on Illumi's parents over the past year, when the scandal of them abusing Alluka and losing custody broke. Still, he could work out a plan to find other ex-employees. He would. Ideas already churned in his mind, sparking and sputtering.

"What do you have so far?" asked Illumi.

"Why do you care?"

He scowled, gripping his knees. "I truly don't. I just want Kalluto as far away from this as possible, so the sooner it's over, the better."

"He hates his stepmother and is oddly threatening," said Chrollo. "And he pushed his sister to her death. And he hangs around strip joints like a complete lowlife."

"You might want to check out Heil-Ly," said Illumi, mentioning one of the most exclusive nightclubs in the city.

"That's not a strip joint to my knowledge," Chrollo joked. He would never be caught dead at one of those places, but Heil-Ly… he had always wanted to check that place out, even if exclusive clubs were not exactly his scene. He had a few strings he could pull. Or people to blackmail, really, into getting his name on a list.

"He's often there on weekends," Illumi said. "Or so I've heard." He rose. "Anyways, I'm off. Make sure Machi and Feitan keep Kalluto out of this."

"Will do." Chrollo studied his notebook. A lead. Another lead, and he didn't even have to rely on Kurapika Kurta for it. He flopped back in his armchair.

Uvogin would have liked this task. He loved nightclubs, beer, laughing, and dancing. He was always so full of life. He was a cliché, bit he was Chrollo's cliché, and didn't they all have a part of themselves that was cliché?

 _If I go,_ Chrollo vowed to a ghost, eyes closed. _I'll make sure to have fun for you, Uvo._

He wanted to ask Shalnark to come. Shalnark would love this kind of undercover job. But Shalnark was still staying over Nobunaga's, and Chrollo didn't want him taking on difficult assignments just yet, not when he'd just been released from prison.

It was so shitty, feeling like he had broken limbs. Chrollo broke his ankle once, and his wrist. A group beat him, throwing him down in an alleyway. He was twelve, and he remembered the crunch and the splat when his chin hit the rain-dampened pothole. But he learned from it, and so it was just another chapter for him endure in his story.

Chrollo pulled out his phone again, staring at the message from Kurapika. _Do you have plans for Friday? It seems our mutual interest has a habit of visiting Heil-Ly downtown._

* * *

"Hot date?" called Leorio as he exited his bedroom.

"Huh?" Kurapika adjusted his blue shirt. His red diamond-shaped earrings swung. They used to be his mother's, but when he had to pick out her outfit for her funeral, he couldn't bring himself to hand them over.

"Why are you dressed up so spiffy?"

"I'm not," said Kurapika, though it was a lie and the way Leorio sighed told him he knew that. He reeked of cologne and Leorio could no doubt smell it. "I have—something to take care of."

Leorio moaned. "Please tell me you aren't going to wind up in a jail cell, because I don't think my internship with Dr. Yorkshire pays me enough to bail your ass out of jail."

"Of course not!" Kurapika turned scarlet.

"Well then." Leorio rubbed the back of his neck. "Have fun on your… not-date."

"Have fun studying." Kurapika checked his phone. A missed call from Killua. He could check it out later. He shoved his phone into his pocket and strode out the door. The ride over on the subway was lonely, the din of lovers flirting and children whining and schoolgirls giggling hitting his sternum, setting off a hollow echo that sent memories of defending Pairo from bullies mocking him for his eyesight, of the time he met Gon and Killua in an alleyway, of Leorio and him almost coming to blows at first before they realized they made a better team than enemies.

 _I'm so lonely._

He stepped off the subway and checked his phone again.

 _You're late,_ texted Chrollo.

 _I'm here_ , he responded.

Chrollo stood in a small convenience store across the street from the nightclub, a cloth tied over his forehead tattoo again. "If you don't want people to recognize you, why did you even get that tattoo?" Kurapika greeted him.

"I was sixteen, and I still like it," Chrollo answered, thumbing through a volume of _Tokyo Ghoul_. Without his favorite coat, he looked almost normal.

Kurapika scowled. "Ready?"

Chrollo slid the volume back onto the shelf. "Ready as ever. Talk to people who know him; don't let him see your face. I presume you did turn eighteen, so when they check ID, you'll be all right."

"Exactly." Kurapika followed Chrollo out the door and pulled to his side. He would not walk behind this man.

"Of course, what would be helpful was if you were more aware of your surroundings," Chrollo commented, staring at the bright, blinking lights of the club across the street. "For instance, I just stole your ID."

"What?" Panic shot through him. Kurapika reached into his pocket. Empty. _You_ —

Chrollo held the card up in the air, between his middle and index fingers. "Oops."

"Give it back!"

"Well, I wasn't exactly keeping it as a souvenir." He handed it over as they waited for the light to change so they could cross the street. "But did you really never pickpocket when you lived on the streets?"

Kurapika studied his shoes. "I worked odd jobs. I never stole."

"How did you feed yourself?" Chrollo cast him a look that said he doubted many were eager to hire a mangy kid.

"I went hungry more often than most, but I never stole." Kurapika met his eyes. Hunger was his friend in those years. Stirring his anger, reminding him of what he didn't have. He combed through dumpsters, ate food that made him sick, but he wouldn't steal.

Chrollo's mouth fell open. "I can't decide if I'm impressed or disturbed. But you have no value for your own wellbeing. How unsurprising. Tell me, Kurapika, when you tried to arrange for me to die, was it to kill me or to put yourself behind bars because you already feel like that's what you deserve?"

"Bastard!" He never really wanted Chrollo to die, not exactly. He wanted—he wanted—

 _Someone to make it stop_.

The little walking man lit up the sign across the street. Kurapika couldn't speak. His legs moved, taking him into the club. The guards checked their ID and let them in. Kurapika did not want to ask what strings Chrollo had had to pull to get them on a list.

"He's not here," Kurapika observed, squinting in the aqua and lavender light.

"It's early," Chrollo said, surveying the room. "Though, I suppose you don't get out enough to know about this." He paused by a bar. "Want a drink?"

"I'm not of age for that yet."

"I didn't ask that."

"Fine." Kurapika crossed his arms over his chest. Wasn't there a saying about accepting a drink from an enemy?

Chrollo said something unintelligible to the bartender and turned back to him. "What _do_ you do on weekends?"

Kurapika swallowed. "I study."

"What's your major?"

Kurapika glowered. "I thought small talk was beneath you."

Chrollo threw his hands up in the air. "Look, we can pretend to be strangers, but I don't trust you not to draw attention to yourself if I leave you alone, and if you compromise my investigation, I swear—"

Kurapika considered punching him right over his disguised tattoo. "I'm taking history."

"Seems fitting for someone who can't leave the past." Chrollo took two matching drinks from the bartender. He held one out to Kurapika. "I took literature and philosophy. Wrote my thesis on determinism."

"I'll take the other one," Kurapika said, gesturing to the drink Chrollo hadn't offered to him.

"Fair." Chrollo handed it over. Kurapika stared at it. "It's a White Russian. Enjoy."

Kurapika took a sip. It was sweet, creamy, and the alcohol gave it a slight twinge on the back of his throat. Not bad. "Determinism is boring."

"Oh, you know what that is?" Chrollo stirred his drink and tasted it. He nodded as if in approval.

"I'm not stupid." Kurapika frowned, drinking more. He liked this. _Is that why you don't seem to hate me?_ he wondered. _You think that what you set in motion had to result in something, and it is what it is._

 _I guess by that logic, we're both on a course to_ — _to what?_

Chrollo cleared his throat. "Look who's made an entrance."

Kurapika stole a glance at the door. Tserriednich. Three others swarmed him immediately. The man laughed. The sound set the alcohol dancing in Kurapika's stomach.

"Will he recognize you?" Chrollo hissed.

"Probably." Kurapika turned a ring over and over around his finger. He wore five on his right hand, one on each finger. They were his father's, and his mother's.

"Make sure you don't get seen. Talk to other people who might know him." Chrollo finished his drink. Kurapika didn't understand how he drank so fast. Chrollo pushed through the room, finding a woman with fair hair pushed back from her head who had just greeted Tserriednich.

 _What do I do?_ Kurapika gripped his glass. The icy cold melted against his palm. But he couldn't let Chrollo do all the work.

"Your first time here?"

Kurapika turned to see a woman with a scar over her eye, holding a beer in her hand. "This is my first time, yes."

"Morena Prudo. I own this place." She held her hand out. Kurapika shook it, setting his glass down.

"Your boyfriend seems to be interested in flirting with someone else," observed Morena. "Will you still have a good time?"

"We're not dating," Kurapika said instantly.

"Oh?" She frowned.

"Not—exclusively," Kurapika clarified, fumbling to lie. _Fuck_. He should have just let her assume.

"Theta's a cute girl," Morena observed, gesturing to the woman Chrollo was chatting up. "Though, the fact that she works with Tserriednich makes her unappealing to me."

Kurapika grabbed his drink again, if only to have something to distract his hands. "Who's that?"

"My half-brother." Morena smiled at him.

Kurapika almost choked on the White Russian. He blinked, setting his phone down.

"Our father doesn't acknowledge the illegitimate children, though," Morena said. "Shame. He's the one who cut up my face." She stepped away. "I imagine your special friend can run with that information, for his newspaper."

 _You know who Chrollo is. You know who I am too, don't you_? Kurapika gaped at her.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," said Morena. "Tell your friend to be more careful." She vanished into the crowd.

 _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck_. Kurapika grabbed his phone and wove his way through the bodies sweating on the dance floor. He had to get to Chrollo before Tserriednich got them both—

Chrollo was now dancing with Theta. Kurapika hesitated. _Oh, why not_? He jumped in. "Mind if I cut in?"

"Huh?" Theta looked confused. Kurapika ignored her.

"You better have a really good reason for doing this," Chrollo stated, eyes dark.

"This club is owned by Nasubi's illegitimate daughter whose face he scarred," Kurapika hissed. "And she knows who you are. And Tserriednich probably does too, and—"

Chrollo's eyes bulged. "Okay, that's a good reason."

"Her name's Morena Prudo." Kurapika stumbled. His head felt like it was floating. He hadn't even finished his goddamn drink; how could he be drunk?

"Oh, shit," said Chrollo, staring past Kurapika. He turned to see Theta's gaze darting away from them—and her hand waving over Tserriednich.

"We have to get out of here!" Kurapika gasped. If Tserriednich caught him here, he'd make Oito's—and Woble— _I'm not losing any more people I care about!_

"If we run, Theta will—"

"I don't care! He can't see my face; he'll recognize me!" His heart pounded and blood roared between his ears. Why hadn't he worn glasses, or a wig? _Why am I so stupid?_ It's always his fault, every single time, because he was so goddamn incompetent and—

Chrollo grabbed Kurapika and yanked him closer, moving like they were dancing, except it was a fast song, music pulsating through the floor, and Tserriednich was still coming closer and closer and now Theta was looking at them again and he needed to look away but he couldn't and his brain wasn't functioning and why didn't he think of this before and—

Chrollo's hands yanked Kurapika's face back towards him. Kurapika only realized what was happening the moment he felt Chrollo's elbow close around the back of his skull, hiding his hair. His lips pressed into Kurapika's.

 _Ew! Get away from me!_ Kurapuka gagged. He struggled to breathe, breathe air he wasn't sharing with Chrollo. Except—this _was_ hiding his face, and Chrollo wasn't going too far, just enough to make it look realistic. Or so Kurapika assumed. He had no idea how to kiss. He tried to copy Chrollo's movements, tilting his head, moving his lips.

 _I don't know what I'm doing I don't know what I'm doing I don't know_ —

"Sorry," Chrollo hissed to him, finally pulling away but still keeping his arm around him. "He's preoccupied elsewhere now."

"I need mouthwash," Kurapika managed.

"It was closed mouth."

"I don't care." Kurapika felt his brain sloshing around inside his skull. He moaned.

"Kurapika?"

* * *

Chrollo felt badly, but he had no idea how else to hide Kurapika's face. Now as Tserriednich moved towards the other side of the room, Theta following, he could breathe.

But Kurapika's face stayed a brilliant red hue, and he stumbled. "Are you _drunk_?" Chrollo demanded.

"No—get away." Kurapika pressed his hand to his forehead. "I have to go—I want to—go home."

Chrollo peered across the room, at the bar. Kurapika's drink still sat on the counter, unattended. And a vision of another time, another place, filled Chrollo's mind. Hisoka, when Chrollo fought him, the way he mumbled and taunted, the jerky accent his movements took. The drug Shalnark slipped into Hisoka's drink to ensure Chrollo won.

 _Goddammit._

"We're going home," Chrollo decided. He grabbed Kurapika and dragged him down the stairs.

"Don't touch me!" Kurapika yanked his arm away, shoving Chrollo. He staggered outside.

"Farewell then." Chrollo strode down the street. A few paces in and he stopped, turning.

Kurapika had dropped to his knees on the sidewalk. "Pairo—Pairo—I want—I'm sorry—"

"Kurapika," Chrollo tried, heading back over. He yanked out his phone. Whom should he call? Illumi would hang up. He didn't have Leorio Paladiknight's number. _Fuck_.

"I hate you," Kurapika told him, glaring up at him. Sweat shone on his face, the streetlights sparkling against his earrings. "Hate. You."

 _Dammit._ Chrollo raised his hand, flagging a cab. He grabbed Kurapika by the waist and hauled him up. "I know you hate me. I don't exactly have a fond opinion of you, either."

"You're evil," Kurapika slurred.

"I'm me." The cab pulled over. Chrollo shoved Kurapika into the backseat and climbed in after him. He gave the cab driver his own address.

Kurapika leaned his head against the window as they drove. "Can't."

"Can't what?" Chrollo asked.

"Can't," Kurapika whispered. His eyes rolled around.

 _You are like a rash at this point. You're_ that _level of annoying._ The cab driver pulled up at Chrollo's house and he hauled Kurapika out of the car. He shoved the door open.

Kurapika tripped the moment they stepped inside. He planted his hands on the floor and gagged, violently vomiting all over the floor.

 _There goes my hardwood._ "Lovely."

"Huh?" Kurapika panted, looking up at him. He gagged again.

"Fuck!" Chrollo grabbed his hair, holding it back. Kurapika moaned.

Some people were graceful when they vomited. Chrollo, for one. Kurapika was not. Each heave sounded like he was exorcising a demon. And he was crying. Or water was streaming from his eyes from the force of it all, but Chrollo couldn't tell the difference at this point.

"Stop," Kurapika choked out. He slumped back against Chrollo's shoulder. "I want to—be—home."

"What's Leorio's number?"

"Huh?" Kurapika's eyelids were sliding shut.

"I'm trying to get you home."

"Can't," mumbled Kurapika. He doubled over and Chrollo had to grab him to keep him from falling into his own vomit. "I want to see Pairo."

"I don't know who that is."

"We snuck alcohol once. It was fun." Kurapika fell back again. "Why..."

"Okay." Chrollo gripped him under his arms, dragging him to his feet. He slung Kurapika's arm over his shoulder and hauled him up the stairs and down the hallway, towards Chrollo's room. He shoved the covers back. "Don't make a mess of my sheets, please." They were red satin and he was proud of them.

Kurapika flopped onto the bed like a dead fish. Chrollo dumped the trash bin next to him and stormed to his kitchen, filling a glass of water. When he returned, Kurapika's eyes were closed, but he was whimpering. Chrollo set the water down next to him.

"Come back," Kurapika eked out, breaths shallow and sharp.

 _Who are you talking to?_

He knew.

Chrollo shut the door behind him. He'd sleep on the couch tonight.

He didn't sleep much, and it wasn't for the lack of a comfortable couch.


	5. Fugue

**Thanks for reading! I want to give a trigger warning for suicidal thoughts this chapter.**

* * *

A hammer pounded into his brain, mashing it up. He couldn't separate daydream from reality from memory. Leorio teasing him about a date, Pairo clinging to his hand, a maelstrom of nausea. His eyes felt like they had been scalded with boiled acid.

Kurapika parted his lips. They were dry. They cracked. Air flooded his mouth. He sucked it in deeper, feeling his lungs expand.

 _What happened?_

This didn't feel like a couch. This felt like a bed. If so, it was a dream, and he wanted to wake up—he couldn't handle hearing his mother's voice in his mind today, not even sure if it was accurate because of how time warped every memory and he couldn't trust—and because he was the scummiest son on earth to not want to remember his mother, to maybe forget her voice, to doubt—

He pulled his eyelids up. A strange ceiling greeted him. Kurapika reached out, feeling. Satin?

Kurapika sat up. Red satin sheets. A crimson coverlet. A bed.

 _Where am I?_ Kurapika struggled to pieces bits and pieces together. The club. Morena. Chrollo kissed him to disguise—and then—he thought he remembered a car ride, but nothing else.

Panic gripped him. He doubled over. He needed his memories. He stumbled to his feet. He was still in his clothes, his aqua dress shirt wrinkled, earrings still swinging from his earlobes. His shoes were still on his feet, phone in his pocket.

A wave of dizziness hit him. Kurapika felt parched, as if his throat was caked in sand. He spotted a glass of water and guzzled it.

 _What happened?_ He gripped the door frame. He fumbled to open it, sighing in relief that it was unlocked. He crept down the hallway.

Chrollo lay on his leather sofa, staring up at his tablet. He turned. "Oh. You're awake."

"What happened?" His voice came out strangled.

Chrollo held up his hands. "You were—sick. Drunk. I don't know your address and you weren't exactly cooperating when I asked you Leorio's number, so I brought you here. I spent the night on the couch; nothing—"

"I know," said Kurapika, wilting.

Chrollo spoke carefully. "What do you remember?"

"You kissed me because of Ts-Ts-him." Kurapika rubbed his temples. "Did he catch us?"

"No, we left right after." Chrollo leaned forward. "Did you leave your drink unattended?"

Kurapika frowned. "I probably put it down when I was talking to—Morena."

"I think someone drugged you."

Kurapika narrowed his eyes. "That's right, you know how to do that."

Chrollo's eyebrows pinched together. "I've only procured that to use on Hisoka when we fought that day so that he would lose. I'm not that kind of person."

"I didn't mean to suggest that." Kurapika dropped into the armchair, breathing deeply to quell his nausea. He wiped at his eyes.

"It happens," Chrollo said. "The world is full of shit people."

 _Like you_. Except—except—none of this made any sense. Kurapika didn't know how to untangle the knot forming in his mind, and it was killing him. _Like you, like Uvogin, like_ — _like_ —

 _Me._

 _Shut up!_

He groped for another topic. He wanted someone to target with this anger, because if he didn't send it flying somewhere it would choke him. Panic sizzled in his palms. "Why did you kiss me?"

"To keep Tserriednich from noticing, and you were panicking at that point and drawing attention to us. I assure you I have not been daydreaming about it since, and you vomited any trace up, so you should be relieved."

"But that was the only thing you could think of?" Kurapika touched his lips. _Why would you want to kiss me? Don't you hate me like I hate you?_ "Wait, I threw up?"

Chrollo's mouth curved in amusement. "A lot."

"On you?"

"No."

"Damn."

Chrollo actually laughed.

"But even to disguise us," Kurapika pressed. "Why would you—couldn't you have pretended I was crying, or—"

"Let's not pretend you wouldn't have kneed me in the groin if I'd done that." Chrollo stretched. "There probably were other options, but I simply went for the first one that came to my mind. I'm sorry."

Kurapika nodded. He wrapped his arms around himself. _How could I have been so stupid?_

"Haven't you been kissed before?" Chrollo asked.

Kurapika met Chrollo's gaze, clutching his hands together. _No_.

"Oh." Chrollo moved his tablet off his lap. "Truly?"

"Shut up!"

Chrollo rolled his eyes, getting to his feet. "I'll call you a cab."

"I'll walk." He didn't want to take any more charity from this man. He did not like what all of _this_ suggested about Chrollo. And about Kurapika himself. That was a book that best stay closed, pages left unseen.

"You're still under the influence. Your voice still sounds uneven."

"I don't care. I need to get home."

"Where is home?" Chrollo asked. "I'll call—"

Kurapika let out a barking laugh. "You destroyed it, so nowhere. A gravesite. A graveyard. _That's_ home. You pretending you're a good guy is really rich, you know that, right? It'd be funny if it wasn't so sickening!"

Chrollo's jaw fell open as if he was actually offended. "Good luck walking out the door with your ego inflating your head that much," he told him. "Fine. Next time I'll just leave you. You were the one who asked to help me, remember?"

"I don't want to—I can't trust you not to team up with him because he'll make you a better deal or—" Kurapika shook his head. He felt like he was disintegrating one thought at a time. He shook all over.

"Please get out," said Chrollo.

Kurapika flipped him off as he left. He made it halfway down the street, his teeth chattering in the surprising chill, before he broke down in tears.

 _I'm a complete failure._

* * *

"You will not believe the morning I have had," Chrollo said, striding into Machi's place. "Hi Feitan." Feitan must have woken up early to be here at this time.

Feitan waved from the floor, where he sat crosslegged, drinking a mug of herbal tea and searching the dark web for information. Apparently he and Machi were working quite closely on this project. Good.

"Did you get information at the club?" asked Machi, jogging down the stairs in her tracksuit. Her hair dangled loose and damp.

"I did," said Chrollo. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about Kurapika and he wasn't sure he didn't. That ungrateful man. At the same time… "It's owned by Nasubi's illegitimate daughter, and he scarred her face."

Feitan spit out his tea.

"What?" Machi sounded intrigued.

"Morena Prudo," said Chrollo, sitting on the edge of Machi's cherry wood chairs. He crossed his legs at the ankles. "I presume she's someone we'll have pissed off before, since she knew whom I was. Though she saw fit to warn me about Tserriednich." Or to warn Kurapika, at any rate.

"Probably," grunted Feitan.

"She was a client of my father's. He denied her plastic surgery request and she tried to sue but it didn't work out," called Kalluto's voice. He appeared, munching on a strawberry-frosted donut that Machi had no doubt bought for him.

A vision of Illumi with crazed eyes and holding an imaginary knife above him popped into Chrollo's mind. "You're not supposed to be here," Chrollo told Kalluto. "This case is for me, Machi, Feitan, and Phinks."

"Phinks is only studying Oito, and I was here to pass on some Pariston Hill information," Kalluto informed him.

"What was that about Phinks?" demanded Machi.

"He do some background research on her," said Feitan gruffly. "Not talk to her."

Kalluto bit back a smirk. "Not yet."

Chrollo didn't care. Phinks could do worse for the investigation. Maybe he'd find something useful in his crush-fueled internet searches. "Kalluto, please go home."

Kalluto's jaw dropped. "But I—"

"It has nothing to do with you," Chrollo said. "I know you are capable, and you're invaluable when it comes to working on Pariston Hill. But your brother personally paid me a visit to threaten me should you get involved in this case."

Kalluto looked as if he was about to implode. "That—"

"He only has your best interests at heart."

"Since when do you care?"

"I care about not losing anyone else to prison, which Hisoka would undoubtably love to inflict on us," Chrollo answered. "Does that answer your question?"

Kalluto let out a huff. He turned and stormed out.

"Don't slam the door!" yelled Machi.

"He don't understand," Feitan offered.

"I know," said Chrollo. He peered over Feitan's shoulder. "What have you found?"

A few hours later and Chrollo's headache only increased in intensity, now feeling like a net of fire was closing around his scalp and squeezing. He wondered if Kurapika made it back okay. Well, there was nothing he could do if not.

"Well, here's something," said Machi, looking up from her tablet. "Rumor has it Heil-Ly actually sells certain drugs."

"By any chance would one of those be GHB or Rohypnol?" asked Chrollo. Had it truly been Morena who drugged Kurapika's drink? Why? He doubted it was for the obvious reason.

"Yes," said Machi. "Did something happen last night?"

"Not to me, and no, nothing actually happened."

"I ask Shalnark if that's where he got it for Hisoka," mumbled Feitan, pulling out his phone.

"That might explain why Tserriednich's bank account is so much larger than you'd expect," mused Machi. "Especially considering his father's business failures of late. But is she friends with Tserriednich?"

"I don't know," said Chrollo. Something definitely smelled fishy, though. His mind spun through the webs of possibilities. If—

"Shalnark says yes," said Feitan, holding his phone up.

 _Fuck_. Chrollo gritted his teeth.

" _Shit,"_ said Machi.

"We can—"

"No, forget that," snapped Machi, leaping to her feet. She thrust her phone at them.

A text. From Kalluto Zoldyck.

 _My dad agreed to meet me! I'll ask him about Morena._

"Fucking hell," managed Feitan.

"He just wants to help," Machi insisted.

"I know," said Chrollo. _But he's going to get all of us back on Hisoka and now Illumi's shit lists._ He liked the kid. Kalluto was useful, sneaky, intelligent, and ambitious. And he enjoyed the investigative work he did. As a Zoldyck, he wouldn't be satisfied with just a normal childhood. Once you fight to prove yourself each and every day—for Chrollo, to survive, for the Zoldycks, to prove they were worth the name printed on their birth certificate—the idea of a normal existence with school books, sitting at a desk for hours, homework, felt like a prison. He saw that restlessness in Kalluto, remembered what it lit within himself in college. He still felt it, smoldering inside him and fueling him in this line of work.

 _Where?_ Machi texted him back.

Kalluto didn't answer.

"Track his phone," Feitan said. "Shalnark can."

"Call him."

"We could just wait—"

"Illumi wasn't playing around, Machi." It wasn't that Chrollo was afraid of him, or of Hisoka. He just—he didn't want to lose any more of them. He didn't want them to fade away, buried in a numbered grave, in prison clothes. He wanted them to matter. All of them. He wanted to matter.

A half hour later and Shalnark called, giving them a coffee shop downtown. They piled into the train and twenty minutes later entered a rather generic coffee shop with glass doors and bored employees, and Kalluto sitting across from his father and next to his mother.

"Do we interrupt or lurk?" said Feitan.

Kalluto turned in his seat. His eyes widened when he saw him. Shame crossed the kid's face when Chrollo shook his head at him.

Machi went up to the counter, ordering an iced coffee with her eyes steadily glued to Kalluto.

"It's so good to see you," gushed Kikyo, her arms around Kalluto. "Tell—tell Killua—"

"I don't—"

"You know they were all lies, and we love and miss you more than life—"

Okay, he'd had enough. Chrollo took a step and realized Feitan was already marching over to them. Feitan planted his hands down on the table. "I call Biscuit Krueger?"

For the love of God, _that_ would be a disaster. Chrollo crossed his arms, watching Feitan. Machi put her hand on her hip.

"Who are you?" demanded Silva.

"Feitan Portor. Kalluto is friend."

"I doubt my son would be friends with someone who can't even talk."

"He _is_ my friend," Kalluto eked out. His voice sounded scratchy, raw. It trembled.

"I could remove your tongue," said Feitan. "Then we see, who can talk."

Ah, that was right. Chrollo knew Feitan had a past of… well, being hired by gangs to send messages, though he said he never took it to the point of killing. But it wasn't a problem that would be fixed in prison, anyways. Society was so strange, thinking that locking people up would fix things. Instead it just festered humanity's wounds, letting bacteria spread.

Silva narrowed his eyes. He rose, towering over Feitan.

Feitan drummed his fingers on the table as if he couldn't care less. "Kalluto, let's go."

"He's my—"

"Not legally, not anymore."

Kalluto's shoulders shook as if he was crying. "I—"

"You have no right to—"

"He my friend. You are not." Feitan reached down and grabbed Kalluto's arm, yanking him up.

"Don't take my son!" wailed Kikyo. Now the employees were watching in alarm. Probably thinking Feitan was kidnapping Kalluto. Swell.

"They're not—they're—" Kalluto started. His pink eyes found Machi, desperate, pleading.

"Let him go, Kikyo," Machi said. "Kalluto, you—"

"You can't kidnap my son!" Kikyo screamed, and that was when Chrollo reached for his phone.

Of course, the moment he pressed _send_ on his text to Kurapika, sirens screamed in the distance.

An half-hour later, Biscuit Krueger present and Silva and Kikyo removed by the police, Chrollo sat with Machi, Feitan, and a sobbing Kalluto, awaiting Illumi.

"I just wanted—to be—useful," gasped Kalluto, sobbing into the sleeves of his kimono.

"You are," said Chrollo.

"Huh?" He gaped up at him, tears and snot running down his face but true to his character, not a hair out of place. "I—fucked up—"

"Language," called Biscuit.

Kalluto scowled at the woman. "But they did say—Morena was their client—"

"Not here," Machi hissed.

"I've never been useful," whispered Kalluto, pressing his face into his knees. "Alluka is—to Killua—and Killua is—and Illumi's been—but I'm just—"

"You're you," said Feitan, gruff.

"And you're someone we like working with, but you have to trust us," Machi said. "Right?"

"Indeed," Chrollo confirmed. "When we say something, you have to listen—if we disagree, we flip a coin." It was how they made decisions when they were just another gang, a small one, running the streets and trying to avoid being eaten by the larger gangs.

Kalluto sniffled. "I just wanted—to matter to people who matter to me."

"You do," said Machi. "You've been—"

The door opened. The now disgruntled, but no longer bored, employees looked up, and so did Chrollo. Illumi glared at them, and behind him, Hisoka rested his elbow atop his skull, draping his arm over his head.

Chrollo was not amused.

"What," asked Illumi, his voice ice. "Was the one thing I asked of you, Chrollo Lucilfer?"

"Hold up," interjected Biscuit. "I need an explanation."

Kalluto curled up, trying to disguise the fact that he was crying from his brother. Illumi hesitated, and then Hisoka elbowed him. Illumi ignored Biscuit and headed over to his brother, crouching down. "It's okay, Kalluto." He turned his brother's face to face him.

Kalluto scrunched his face up, unable to look his brother in the eyes. "It's not."

"Look at me," Illumi said. "It is."

"They said—they said—I thought I could—but they—"

"I'm not angry with you." Illumi lasered his gaze on Chrollo as if to clarify just whom he was angry with.

Kalluto cried, falling against Illumi's shoulder. Illumi awkwardly patted his back. From what Chrollo knew, no Zoldyck child had been allowed to cry, not past a certain age when they learned tears meant no one was coming. But Illumi was there.

"Hey, Lucilfer," said Hisoka, and then he punched Chrollo across the nose.

Chrollo staggered back, but he kept on his feet. Blood streamed down his face. Hisoka hadn't held back. _You petty_ —

But when he looked up, he saw fury in Hisoka's eyes even as Biscuit yelled about getting the police to restrain him. _This didn't have to do with that, did it? You're genuinely angry about Kalluto. And Illumi_. Would wonders never cease. Chrollo didn't understand. That didn't fit with Hisoka's character at all, at least not what he knew about him. He should be interested in the drama. He probably was, but—something else burned there, too.

"Don't you ever let that happen again," Hisoka snarled.

What was he supposed to do? He couldn't control the kid. Still... "I don't want to press charges," Chrollo managed, seeing the alarm on Kalluto's face as a cop took a tentative step towards Hisoka.

"Good," said Biscuit, waving the cops off. Hisoka crossed his arms.

"I'll talk to them," Machi said. "Feitan and me."

Chrollo nodded, face aching. He trusted Machi. She was, after all, the only one to have an invite to Hisoka and Illumi's wedding. She could handle it. And by extension, he was handling it. That was how this worked.

But as he left, a word that hadn't stalked him since his years on the streets crept up on him, breathing down his neck.

 _Failure._

* * *

"Morning—or afternoon?" Leorio emerged from his room around noon, sluggish and half-awake. He stopped in his tracks. "Are you okay?"

Kurapika sat at their small table, staring emptily into his cup of tea. He took ibuprofen when he got home only to vomit it up. His head felt like someone had attached bricks to it.

"Are you hungover? Was that why you didn't come back last night? And you didn't even answer my texts." Leorio drew up. "Don't tell me you got laid, Kurapika. That's—"

"No!" Kurapika shook his head. The mere movement of his skull felt like an explosive sending shrapnel into his eyes and jaw. He lowered his head to the table. "Nothing like that. I was—investigating."

"Kurapika." Leorio's tone was disapproving. "Don't tell me you're continuing to go after—"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Did they hurt you?"

Kurapika groaned. "No. It wasn't—I mean—" He pushed himself up on his elbows. Leorio was so _good_. He had no idea Kurapika's job was not just to have something to do, that he was investigating, that he was seeking rubies. Leorio was too good, and Kurapika was like a filthy rag. "Do you know—since you want to be a doctor—how long it takes a drug to wash out of your system? Like a drug that someone would put in your drink to make you pass out?"

Leorio's face whitened. "Don't tell me—"

"I'm fine," Kurapika said. "A... friend made sure I got back safely." He hated using that term for Chrollo. But he couldn't let on.

"If it was last night, it should be gone from your system soon," said Leorio. "But drink water. And Kurapika, you should go to the police."

" _Nothing actually happened._ "

Leorio grabbed a glass and filled it with water. He passed it to Kurapika. "You need to rest."

"I'll rest when I'm dead," Kurapika managed.

"That's what I'm afraid of." Leorio pursed his lips.

"Mm." Kurapika closed his eyes. _I just want this pain to stop._

When Kurapika woke up, he was all alone, and evening loomed in the windows outside. He lay on the couch again, a blanket over him. His headache felt lesser, just a cloud now. But his chest throbbed. Kurapika doubled over. _Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop._

He was useless.

He wasn't worth dying with his family. He wasn't going to be able to get justice for them, not with his stupidity and the fact that the universe didn't seem to have it in the cards for him. Because he was incompetent at everything he tried to do. He was a hollow piece of wood, long past the point of potential in a woodcutter's hand, yet still being whittled away into a pile of splinters.

He wanted tears. He wanted hot tears, burning in his eyes, a sob to shake his chest, ricochet through the room. Instead he got silence. Instead he got stilted breaths. Instead of seeing his parents, he saw Uvogin.

He screamed, but he couldn't even hear it.

 _I want to go home._

* * *

 **Again, thanks for reading! I also want to thank mercyandmagic (my twin with whom I exchange a lot of Kurokura and Hisoillu headcanons) for allowing me to use a certain plot device she's using in her (canon-verse!) fic, Ghostbound. (Actually I can't remember which of us came up with that hc.) Anyways, if you like Kurokura or Hisoillu and Zoldyck family drama, check her fic out!**


	6. Requiem

**Thanks for reading! Again, please be forewarned this chapter contains some frank talk about suicidal ideation.**

* * *

When Illumi called him, Chrollo pressed record. If he threatened him, Chrollo had no qualms about getting a restraining order. Not for his own sake—if Illumi and Hisoka took him down, everyone else could continue on their work. But if they went after Nobunaga, or Machi, or Feitan— _I won't stand for that._

This was all he had. His legacy. He couldn't—

"Chrollo."

"If you're going to threaten me, don't bother," Chrollo said, pressing ice against his face. _Fuck you, Hisoka_.

"I'm not… at the moment," said Illumi, sounding restrained. Almost like his old self.

"Then why are you calling?" Chrollo winced. His nose didn't seem to be broken, but a bruise would definitely mar his cheekbone for the next week.

"My brother received a very worried phone call from Leorio Paladiknight," said Illumi. "Killua, that is. It seems Kurapika's vanished and won't answer his phone."

Chrollo frowned. "What?" Tserriednich hadn't seen Kurapika in the club after all, had he? If Morena was actually working with her brother… _Fuck_.

"He said Kurapika was ill," continued Illumi. "And said something about having been drugged."

"I had nothing to do with that." Chrollo stretched.

"Surprised it wasn't you," Illumi said icily. "Considering what you did to Hisoka."

 _You're still bitter_? Chrollo yawned. "It's not like cheap tricks to win in your business have never been a part of your life."

Illumi went silent. "Well, Kurapika apparently left a note saying 'sorry.'"

 _Sorry for what?_ Chrollo set the ice pack down on the bathroom counter. "And?"

"And nothing else, but it was addressed to Leorio, Gon, Melody, and Killua. If you know where he is, or if you had made plans for your investigation, you should contact Leorio," said Illumi. "So Killua will be able to go to sleep tonight. He has a test tomorrow and he can't study because he's worried."

And Illumi was lowering his standards to contact Chrollo over this. "How's Kalluto?"

Illumi hung up on him. Chrollo cussed. He _did_ care about Kalluto. He hoped Kalluto knew that. He saw himself in the kid.

But they hadn't made plans, and if Kurapika wasn't anywhere—then—

Chrollo grabbed his keys and stormed out into the streets, bathed in tangerine by the setting sun. He marched to his favorite café.

The barista waved. No Kurapika. Just books, and an older couple bickering. If Chrollo was actually planning to work here today he would order them to shut up. Their din was so annoying.

He texted Illumi. _I have no idea where he is and I am not my enemy's keeper._ If Kurapika wanted to be a drama queen, he could be a drama queen. He strolled back towards his home.

Illumi called again as Chrollo approached his house. "Leorio heard from him."

"I'm not surprised."

"No, Chrollo," Illumi snapped. "He texted Leorio that he wanted to go home. Kalluto tracked his phone to a coffee shop, but he'd left according to the employees."

Well, shit.

Illumi caught his breath. "Hisoka agreed to take Killua out searching for him, so if you don't help out, I am going to skin you instead of skinning him when I find him."

"I barely know him," Chrollo protested. "Maybe he's on his way back to his apartment."

"You're the same person. Figure it out." Illumi hung up again.

The same person? Chrollo was offended. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his familiar coat and craned his neck up, looking up at a streetlight. It blinded him. He didn't carry around self-righteous chains like Kurapika did. He didn't run around hating death while dancing with it. He was more honest than Kurapika was, at least with himself.

And he couldn't call anyone else from the paper. They'd want Kurapika to hang himself.

 _I want to go home._

 _Where is home?_

 _A gravesite. A graveyard. That's home._

"Fucking hell," said Chrollo. Kurapika couldn't mean to—or—did he mean it literally and figuratively? It would make sense, him being as extra as he was.

Chrollo jumped on the next subway. A quick phone call to the cemetery caretaker and he had a grave location. The cemetery was walled in, trees looming overhead with the last dregs of sunlight filtering through the leaves, orange droplets splattering verdant grass and cold stone. The Kurta were buried behind a hill, in a particularly unremarkable portion of the cemetery. Graves stretched out all around them, and on top of one grave lay a crumpled figure with golden hair.

 _Kurapika, you didn't_ — _you fucking_ — Chrollo took off, storming towards him. He'd long gotten over any semblance of a fear of death, but he did not want to have to give Illumi this news if— _don't you dare be_ — _you melodramatic prick—_

Kurapika stirred and Chrollo almost doubled over in relief. Air whooshed out of his lungs. The man craned his neck up, meeting Chrollo's eyes. His jaw fell open.

"Surprise," said Chrollo. "Leorio raised the alarm. You have good friends."

Kurapika said nothing. He closed his eyes.

"Did you take anything?" Chrollo demanded. If Kurapika had, he would drag his pathetic ass to the hospital and—

Kurapika shook his head. He pushed a water bottle and a bottle of paracetamol away from him. "I didn't take it."

"Good." Chrollo grabbed the two bottles and tossed them behind the grave.

"I didn't mean to make them worry." His face was blotchy, stained.

"Liar." Chrollo looked away. "And anyways, they did."

Kurapika covered his eyes. His shoulders shook as he barely muffled a sob, an ugly, grotesque sound.

Chrollo had only ever cried quietly, a teardrop at a time. He wondered what it would feel like to feel so unhinged. He pulled out his phone and texted Illumi. _I found him. He isn't hurt_. And then he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Kurapika still cried. His words from the night before, the words he probably never intended Chrollo to hear, resurfaced in Chrollo's mind. They were stilted, only half-formed thoughts, pleas. Chrollo hesitated, and then sat on the grass next to him. The dampness sank into his pants. "Who is Pairo?"

Kurapika didn't respond. Chrollo wondered if he'd heard. And then Kurapika removed his arms from his face and pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning his shoulder against his parents' gravestone. "My best friend."

"What happened?" Chrollo already knew. But if he needed to let out some anger, well, Chrollo was right here, and Kurapika didn't seem particularly dangerous right now.

"He died with my parents." Kurapika met Chrollo's eyes. "He was—he couldn't see well, and people used to make fun of him. Everyone at school. He was my cousin. And I used to defend him from bullies—they called him a burden to me, but he wasn't, not ever. He wasn't useless. He was smart, and he was kind, and he always helped me—he was selfless."

"Was he?" Chrollo asked. "Or was it just that you never listened to him?"

Kurapika glared at him. "Bastard! Do you have to justify—"

"I'm not justifying anything. Good or bad, we all die." What he said before had little to do with Pairo, but Kurapika was too dense to get it.

"Genuinely selfless," Kurapika snapped. "He—he and I would read books, plan our travels—he wanted to travel. He wanted to—" His voice fell off.

"It sounds like he really was a good guy," said Chrollo.

"I should have died instead," Kurapika said. "Or at least with them. I—think I did die that day, but for some reason I'm still here."

"Well, yes, you are still here," said Chrollo. He thought of Leorio, of Killua, of Gon, of the fact that Kurapika seemed to be ignoring them. "They're dead and no matter what you do you can't bring them back." He thought of Uvogin. All he could do was honor him. "You think you dying will change the fact that they're dead?"

"Not hardly! They'd dead; you said it yourself!" Kurapika punched his fist into the grass. "But I—but I can't—I don't want to—"

Ire rose up in Chrollo. "Do you honestly think what happened to them is your fault? I knew you had a massive ego, but I didn't know you actually thought you were a god."

Kurapika glared at him. "It's—it's your fault!"

"Yes," Chrollo said, leaning closer. "It's my fault, if you want to know, and so then why are you insisting on punishing yourself for it? You're like one of those flagellants back in the medieval days. You think hurting yourself will atone and it won't. All it does is leave you bleeding."

Kurapika let out a laugh.

Chrollo stiffened.

"Why does it matter to you what I do?" Kurapika rasped. "You don't care. You didn't care about their lives; you just wanted the money from those rubies—"

"I wanted to give Feitan enough money to pay off a gang that was threatening him," said Chrollo. "It was stupid but it worked." There would have been other ways, but that—stealing ancient rubies linked to myths—it sounded fun.

"So you sacrificed my family for your friends?" Kurapika gaped at him.

"Isn't that what you did?" asked Chrollo. "When you sold out my friends to Hisoka just to—just to appease yourself. You ruined the living to make the dead proud." His voice shook.

"How can you care so much about people close to you and not about—"

"Answer it yourself!" Chrollo's voice rose. He clamped a hand over his mouth. "I showed you mercy, you know. I could have had you arrested for trying to kill me. I showed you mercy, and you still sold my friends out."

Kurapika's face whitened.

"You know there's a story in the Bible about that?" Chrollo continued. "A man begs his master to forgive his debt. He does, and then sends a fellow servant to prison for far less of a debt to him. His punishment is then even greater."

"Why did you show me mercy?" Kurapika whispered.

"Hm?" Chrollo turned to him.

"I don't believe you thought I would give up, even if you knew I wouldn't kill you," Kurapika said. "I—you're too smart for that. So, _why_ , then?"

"Are you trying to blame me for what _you_ later did?"

"No. I want to know."

Chrollo ripped up a few roots of grass. He didn't know what to say. Or rather, he had pieces of the puzzle, but fitting them together—he couldn't form the right sentence, and he gritted his teeth. "I—you—there's a part of vengeance that is certainly appealing. And you were talented and had determination, for a street kid."

"So, I was like you," Kurapika said derisively. "Who's the selfish one now?"

Chrollo's eyes widened. He turned to him. Kurapika's ruby-hued earrings swung in the breeze. The sky bled maroon, indigo bruises swelling in the form of clouds.

"My family was—how I mattered," said Kurapika, gaze boring into him. "Your friends, your newspaper—that's how you matter, isn't it? Your legacy. You've accepted death, but you're still fighting it. No, you haven't really accepted it. You just pretend you have because you're more than just a life. You hurt people because you want to and because you feel you can. Who has a god complex now?"

Chrollo looked up at the sky. "If we're gods, the world's fucked."

Kurapika actually let out a chuckle.

"That's life, isn't it? It's all pre-written. You can't—"

"Bullshit," Kurapika interrupted. "You had a choice, you know? You _always_ have a choice. I had a choice and I—made it. You did not have to do what you did to my family. You did not have to drug Hisoka and if you hadn't, I wouldn't have—they—" He gripped his knees. "You're arrogant. You're just as arrogant as Hisoka."

"How do you feel about your choices?" asked Chrollo.

Tears leaked down Kurapika's face. "Shitty. And how do you feel about yours?"

Chrollo didn't like this question. "It's easier to have choices when you have a family, when you didn't have to scrounge the streets—"

"You still had other options, and you don't matter more than anyone else." Kurapika studied him. "That's how you cope, isn't it? You tell yourself everything's predestined so that you can feel like your life—the streets, all of it—has some kind of meaning, has some kind of journey to it, so you can believe it's not your fault."

"You—" Chrollo didn't know what to say. He didn't bother thinking about _fault_. Because it wasn't worth it. There was no justice. He knew that the moment he saw his mother's body. There wasn't a point in trying. And he hadn't tried since.

But Kurapika was accusing him of just that. Trying. Always trying. Chrollo didn't like it.

"You should hate me," said Kurapika. "For what I did to Uvogin." He stared at the tombstone, tracing the carved names.

Chrollo didn't know what to say.

Kurapika shook his head. "They'd hate me. My family. They'd be ashamed of me." He leaned his forehead against the stone.

"Forget them," said Chrollo. "You're just saying that because _you're_ ashamed of you. Because you hate death."

"And you don't care because you hate it too," said Kurapika. "But you don't think you deserve to live."

Chrollo shrugged. "I don't think _deserve_ is part of the conversation. I think it's—I am alive, so I might as well—"

"I wish I could feel that way," Kurapika whispered. The moon appeared, breaking out from behind a cloud.

"Part of me almost wishes I could feel like you do," Chrollo replied. He had, once. Maybe. Or maybe he'd just dreamed it. But it had all died long ago. In some strange way, he admired Kurapika for holding onto it.

Kurapika grabbed a stray branch lying on the ground, fiddling with it in his hands. He swallowed a sob.

"I promise nothing happened last night," Chrollo said again. "You were—"

"I know," said Kurapika. "I haven't been worried about that." He tossed the stick from hand to hand. "God, we're both such fuck-ups."

Chrollo snorted.

Kurapika let out his breath. "Thank you for helping me last night. And... now."

Chrollo blinked. "You're welcome."

"Why did you come?"

"In truth?" Chrollo shrugged. "Illumi threatened me. A lot's happened today. If you get your phone back, you'll find details since I texted you."

"Oh." Kurapika tapped the branch on the ground. "If you hadn't hurt my family, we could have worked together more efficiently."

"I don't think very much about the _could have beens_."

"Why not?" Kurapika pointed the branch at him.

"Because," said Chrollo. "Then I'm not disappointed." He didn't remember ever being a child. He just remembered being small.

"You should think about possibilities more," said Kurapika. "Because what are you even doing, if not chasing them with your writing?"

Chrollo raised his eyebrows. A mosquito bit his neck. He slapped it. "Don't go there. But sure. We could be. I don't think about why we couldn't be. You're talented, so."

"I'm... sorry about Uvogin," whispered Kurapika. "And for Pakunoda, Kortopi, Shalnark."

Chrollo frowned. Kurapika sounded sincere. "Does that make you a bad person?"

"Maybe."

"Incorrect," said Chrollo. "It just makes you a person." He tore up more grass. "I'll let it go if you will."

Kurapika was silent.

"I'm sorry," said Chrollo. "About your parents, and Pairo."

Kurapika's breaths came harsh and quick. "I don't want to die. But I don't want to live, not like this."

"You're alive," said Chrollo. "So live. You don't need a special reason."

Kurapika studied him. "Neither do you."

"You can punch me if it'll make you feel better."

"It looks like someone already did," Kurapika pointed out.

Chrollo traced the bruise from Hisoka. "Ah, yeah. Hisoka wasn't happy about Kalluto—well. Like I said. I have a lot to tell you."

Kurapika tossed the stick at Chrollo. He caught it.

"So," said Chrollo. "Are we calling a truce? Friends?"

"Truce," Kurapika decided. "We'll see about... that." He held out his hand.

 _Wow_. Chrollo reached out to shake it.

He had a lot to think about.

* * *

Chrollo refused to give him back the paracetamol. Kurapika didn't care.

He'd put flowers on his parents' graves later. For now, he just wanted to sleep. He felt like a rag that had been wrung out again and again. Chrollo walked him to the apartment he shared with Leorio. Kurapika cleared his throat. "Thank you."

Chrollo tilted his head. "You're welcome." And then he was gone, wandering off to God knows where. Kurapika squared his shoulders and pushed open the door.

" _Kurapika!_ " Leorio flung himself at him. Melody grabbed him from behind.

 _Why_ — _why are you doing this? I really matter this much_?

"You idiot," Leorio ground out. "You scared the shit out of us."

Shame coiled in his stomach. He hadn't asked them to care.

 _But they do_.

"I'm sorry," Kurapika mumbled.

"Great." Leorio held up a tablet with a Skype call to both Killua and Gon. Melody held up Kurapika's phone.

"Thank God!" burst out Killua. Alluka and Kalluto appeared behind him. "Milluki's distracting Illumi so I can make this call. You're—you—"

"I'm fine," Kurapika said quickly.

"Oh, cut the crap," snapped Leorio. "You're not fine, Kurapika. I talked to Dr. Yorkshire and she—"

Kurapika huddled on the couch, hunching his shoulders. Melody put her hand on his shoulder.

"We thought you might try to off yourself," Killua said.

Kurapika squeezed his eyes shut. His voice cracked. "That was my plan."

"Kurapika!" yelped Gon.

"I didn't do it."

"Obviously," mumbled Killua.

"Oh, Kurapika," said Melody. "I know. I know it hurts." Her eyes were wet.

 _Your friend_. "Do you ever feel like you deserved to die more than they did?" Kurapika croaked out. "Like—no matter what you do—it won't be enough to earn your life back?"

"Yes," Melody said quietly.

"You're not angry with Chrollo so much as you're angry at yourself," observed Leorio.

"That's what Mito says about me," said Gon, voice sad. "That I take out my frustrations with my dad on myself." He cringed.

 _Shit_. Kurapika let out his breath.

"I can't do this anymore," Leorio let out his breath. "Kurapika, I can't do this. I want you to take care of yourself. I can't stand seeing your self-destruct like this—it's hurting me, and it's hurting Killua, and Gon, and Melody, because whether or not you want us to care we do, okay?"

His words hit Kurapika in the chest. He stared up at his friend, who glared down at him. "It was not your fault."

Kurapika shook his head. "I don't think—it was."

"You're lying," said Melody.

Kurapika wiped at his eyes.

 _You have choices_ , he'd yelled at Chrollo.

 _I wish I did._ He felt chained, handcuffed to three graves. _I can't break free._

"Would you rather choose them or us?" Leorio demanded. "Because that's what it is, Kurapika. I can't—I can't do this anymore." He gripped his skull. "I just can't." His voice trembled.

"Chrollo and I reached a truce," Kurapika whispered.

"Wait, really?" asked Killua. "Huh."

"But what about _you_ , Kurapika?"

"I don't know," he admitted. It should be enough, shouldn't it? His best friend, the best friend he'd ever had, was telling him he needed to change something, do something different, and he still felt stuck.

 _Help me! Somebody help me!_

He was screaming and strangling and no one could hear him.

 _Am I this terrible of a person?_

He couldn't bear to hurt Leorio any more. Or Killua, or Gon, or Melody. Oito and Woble were counting on him.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed. "But I… I don't want to die."

"Well, good start," Leorio said.

He wanted to tell them exactly what happened at the grave. But he couldn't. The words lodged in his throat. "I—I don't—I can't—I am sorry. I don't want to hurt you anymore—it'll take time—there are things I don't want to talk about—" _Because none of you will understand them. '"_ You're so much better than me, Leorio. You lost your best friend to cancer and you've turned it into something positive to fuel you to become a doctor. I admire you. I don't know how to—I don't know if it's even possible for me to do anything positive, anymore, with this." _Maybe my story is meant to be tragic._

But he had choices. And his friends didn't want it to be. And he—he might not want it to be. _Do I have a choice? Can I?_

"Let us help you," said Melody. "Please."

"I can give you the name of a therapist Cheadle recommended," Leorio said.

Kurapika couldn't speak. He nodded.

"Yay," said Gon in relief. Leorio and Melody both embraced him. They were warm.

 _I'm ugly. You all know I'm ugly, and you still_ — _you're all still sitting with me, wanting me, begging me._

 _You're like Pairo._

"Killua, if you are on that computer instead of studying, I will be very displeased," called Illumi's voice, and Kurapika couldn't help but laugh.


	7. Recapitulation

**_These days, and these nights are all us_**

 ** _All us is all we need_**

 ** _Don't speak our words are for us_**

 ** _For lovers till the end_**

 ** _We won't be alone, no one can ever know_**

 ** _For once and all, criminals and lovers fall_**

 ** _Standing stood on the dark side,_**

 _ **But we'll never run it down** _

_**~Timecop1983, "Lovers"**_

* * *

Chrollo woke to a text from Shalnark. _Can we meet up?_ He rolled over in his bed, blinking. Kurapika had nice cologne, Chrollo would give him that. He'd have to ask him about the brand so he could pilfer it. He sniffed the pillow, since he hadn't had time to wash the sheets before sleep called to him.

 _Your place or mine?_ Chrollo responded, hauling himself out of bed.

 _Yours. :D_

Chrollo texted Illumi. _We're cool now, right?_

 _I'm tolerating you again._

Another text lit up his phone. _凸_ _(_ _0´)_ _凸_

He rolled his eyes. _I didn't ask you, Hisoka_. Chrollo brewed a cup of tea. His cheek still hurt but he'd be damned if he let on to anyone. He should go to the gym today. He'd go after Shalnark's visit.

"Danchou," Shalnark greeted him.

"Morning." Chrollo fed his betta fish. The white animal swam inside its crystal vase. "How are you doing?"

"Fine." Shalnark hesitated. "Danchou, did I do anything wrong?"

Chrollo blinked. "What?" He didn't understand where the boy was coming from. Since he'd gotten out of prison, Chrollo had—

"I mean, you haven't given me many assignments," Shalnark blurted out. He turned his ever-present phone over and over again in his hand. "I was wondering if you'd lost confidence in my abilities. Since my face has been in the paper and I'm more conspicuous now. Paku and Kortopi are wondering, too."

Chrollo exhaled. "No, Shalnark. That's not it at all." He didn't know how to best express what it was. He knew they were all very capable investigators, writers, intelligent and savvy, street smart and in Kortopi's case with a knack for being able to meet people with whatever their emotional needs happened to be. "I…"

Shalnark waited.

When he was in Meteor City, when he suggested they take their fight against the stupid gangs that kept them as human trash in a city forgotten to the outside world, Shalnark was the one who suggested Chrollo lead them. They trusted him to put their information together, to put it to good use. He'd used whispers, secrets, to play the two lead gangs against each other, after all. With Franklin and Shalnark, Chrollo had stolen the first laptop they had and Shalnark knew enough coding to start their site. "I don't want you to put yourself at risk. In due time, but—"

"I understand."

"No," said Chrollo. "You don't. I mean, you don't _have_ to do more." He reached out and clasped Shalnark's shoulder. "It's okay to rest. You've earned it. We support each other."

Kurapika's words from the night before echoed in his mind. He batted them away. _Of course it's not my fault._

Shalnark exhaled. "Nobunaga is still furious."

"Hm." Chrollo leaned back. With Kurapika? _But we called a truce._ He wondered how Shalnark would take that news. Or when he should tell them. They didn't need to know, not now, not unless Nobunaga planned to seek revenge but as far as Chrollo knew, he was preoccupied currently. "Tell me, Shalnark, did you and Kortopi happen to get useful information on the wardens?"

Shalnark laughed. "We didn't. The wardens were boring. Paku did on hers though."

"Interesting." Chrollo would have to give her a call.

"I should say," added Shalnark. "Nobunaga wanted to come over later today, too. I'm editing what he has on Pariston Hill so far—"

"Well, I hope it's enough, because I'm not sure how much more information we'll be able to get out of our best source," Chrollo said darkly. Illumi was probably not _that_ forgiving. Then again, Kalluto was probably that stubborn. He knew he liked that kid.

"Well, the news is that some money's been transferred from his account into Ging Freecss' account."

"What?" Chrollo sat on his couch, mug in hand. It was lukewarm now. How sad. "Well, Kalluto did mention he has political ambitions."

"Yes, and this suggests collusion."

"Most certainly." Chrollo rubbed his chin.

"Anyways," said Shalnark. "Nobunaga said he'd contact you later about it."

"Thanks, Shalnark." He nodded. Shalnark had such faith and loyalty. He almost reminded Chrollo of Kurapika in some ways, that childlike faith Chrollo remembered watching bleed to death on a street long ago. The streetlights were out, and rain pattered down, rinsing away the crimson into a storm drain.

"Welcome, Danchou." Shalnark was the one who came up with that nickname. Chrollo preferred it to his real name. It was just job, his role, the role written for him. His real name was—pointless. _Danchou_ at least gave him a point.

"Good work," Chrollo added. Shalnark blinked, and then he beamed as he scurried out of the house.

A cloud overtook the sun outside as Chrollo watched him go.

 _You have a choice. You always have a choice_.

 _You don't even think about what your actions might do to someone else's life._ Kurapika hadn't said those exact words, but he might as well have. No matter what Chrollo learned he'd never be able to learn everything about someone, know all the cracks, know what would make one shatter.

 _I can. I just miscalculated that time._

No. He couldn't.

They'd just made a truce. And he didn't want to lose anyone else. He didn't want to forget. He didn't want to be forgot— _don't be a dumbass._

 _Will he be angry if I report on Gon's father?_ Chrollo pulled out his phone and sighed.

"Can it wait, Chrollo?" Kurapika greeted him. "I'm with Woble right now." Chrollo heard a baby's chortle in the background.

"Yes," said Chrollo. "I want to talk about your friend Gon and his father."

Kurapika sucked in his breath. "Oh."

"I won't do anything until we talk it over. I'd rather not create a new enemy." Namely Gon. Or Kurapika again. Or Hisoka, since he seemed to be mentoring Gon whenever he felt like it, which seemed to be a lot lately, and if Chrollo upset Gon, Chrollo was quite certain a single punch would not suffice to quell Hisoka's fury.

Kurapika was quiet, but his breaths echoed. "Okay. Can I stop by after I'm free? It won't be until this evening because I have class too, after I finish with Woble."

"Sure." Chrollo hung up. He sent texts to Kortopi and Paku and set to work editing.

* * *

"Ah, you."

Kurapika clutched Woble, stiffening his spine. He did not want to face Tserriednich.

"Keep her quiet, will you? I have things to work on." The man stalked past him, and Kurapika let out his breath.

Tserriednich hadn't recognized him. He hadn't seen his face in the club, or he would have said something, wouldn't he have? Chrollo's haphazard plan must have worked. Kurapika's fingers traced his lips. He cringed, face burning at the memory. Of course, it would be one of the last things he remembered about that night.

And of course, he couldn't even hate Chrollo anymore. Not after their talk. If anything the only person he had left to hate was himself. And yet Chrollo was still asking him about Ging Freecss without rushing into it. He didn't know how to feel about it. It sat like a tilting tower of blocks inside him, and he wasn't sure where or how it would fall.

When Oito arrived home, Kurapika was reading to Woble. He waved to her. Bags hung under her eyes.

"Your stepson is here," Kurapika said in a low voice.

Oito swallowed. "Thank you for warning me."

Kurapika nodded. "How's your class going?"

Oito studied him. She knew he knew, didn't she? That she was planning to leave Nasubi. "It's going well."

"I have some friends," said Kurapika. Or, well, he had friends who had friends. Leorio and Cheadle, Illumi even. "Who could help you get a job." _So you can support Woble and leave this sinking ship_.

"I may take you up on that, but I want skills beforehand," said Oito. "I'm more capable than I ever thought I was, or acted as though I was."

Kurapika smiled. He admired that sentiment. "That's inspiring."

"Oh?" Oito took her daughter. "You're so young, Kurapika. You shouldn't be so fatalistic already."

 _Huh?_ Kurapika squeezed his fists. His rings dug into his palms. He shrugged.

"Your last name is a dead giveaway," Oito said. "I know you use a fake one. I meant it when I said I checked your references. I wouldn't let just anyone near my daughter."

Kurapika's jaw fell open. "But—" _So you know I was using a fake last name? You know why I'm here, don't you? About the rubies…_

"If you're already at the point where a woman deciding to leave her husband because of her baby is inspiring to you, then you're deeper in a cage than you think," said Oito. "You're eighteen, Kurapika. You can leave—whatever situation you're trapped in. You don't have to stay."

 _Ah. You know some, but not everything_. Kurapika managed a small smile. "I don't know," he said. "I think leaving a situation like this for your child's sake is something—beautiful." _Do you really think you have so little value, Oito?_

 _Mom, Dad, why didn't you take more care with your lives for me?_

 _Woble will never be alone._

 _I'm so alone._

A sympathetic look crossed Oito's face. She patted his shoulder. He lowered his head. _If you knew what I was really like, that I almost had Chrollo killed, that I then turned people in and one died even though Chrollo showed me mercy, would you still care?_

 _Mom, Dad? Would you still want me? Pairo?_

"Kurapika," said Oito. "You're stronger than you think. You're going to be okay."

 _I wish._ "So are you," he pointed out, and she looked sad, but she smiled.

He made his way to class, and then to Chrollo's place, knocking on the door. Chrollo opened it. "Hey."

"Hi," said Kurapika, awkwardly. It felt strange not to have any animosity simmering in either of their voices. He entered, pausing by an aquarium with a white betta fish swimming. "What's its name?"

"Oh, that?" Chrollo asked, pouring two cups of tea. "I don't really name it. It's just Indoor Fish."

"Lame." Kurapika watched the animal swim behind an emerald stalk. He dropped onto the couch, tucking his leg under him, and accepted a cup of tea. "What's happening with Ging Freecss?"

Chrollo told him the story, sitting on the opposite end. Kurapika swallowed. "I don't really know if I can tell you what to do." Justice would demand Ging suffer, and he'd hurt Gon, but he was still Gon's dad, any anything that happened to him would affect Gon… Kurapika brought his tea up to his mouth and inhaled the steam.

"Dammit." Chrollo leaned back.

"I have a question," said Kurapika.

"Sure."

"Why do you steal information?" asked Kurapika. "Why is this your job? What made you want to do this? Is it money?" He eyed the room with its expensive furnishings, the art on the wall, the gilded frames.

Chrollo snorted. He set his tea down on the glass coffee table. "I suppose I did always have a taste for the finer things."

"Except that coat," Kurapika pointed out.

"It was expensive by thrift store standards and I wanted it." Chrollo rolled his eyes. "It's—when you grow up in Meteor City—" He groaned and tilted his head back. "I don't know how to articulate this. You learn early on that trash reveals a lot about a person. Their secrets. And you can use those to stay alive, to stay safe, to get comfortable."

 _You're talking about living on the streets._

"I suppose that wouldn't have appealed to you." Chrollo rubbed his globe earrings.

"No," said Kurapika. "Only with your group."

Chrollo snorted.

"Is it revenge for you, too?" asked Kurapika. "Do you want the people who were in power and overlooked you to suffer?"

Chrollo pressed his lips together. "I'm more concerned with my own life than with someone else's."

Kurapika gritted his teeth. "And yet you have little value of your own life. Was sparing me from the police about me? Or was it about you, and your fatalism?"

"That's awfully out of nowhere," Chrollo replied. "Do you wish I hadn't? Do you want to suffer so badly?"

"That's not it." Kurapika finished his tea. "Doesn't it ever feel empty to you, though? All of this? All this work?"

Chrollo looked off to the side. "No."

"Liar," Kurapika said, heart thumping.

"Not exactly," said Chrollo. "I just don't have that kind of faith, like you do. I wish i could believe like that. I wish i had that kind of faith in the world. But life in Meteor City teaches you that it's pointless to wish. Still, it's lovely that you can."

Kurapika blinked. _There's something you admire about me? But I_ —

"When they were all arrested and I couldn't do a thing," said Chrollo. "That was—" He curled his fists.

"I'm sorry."

"I know, and I more blame Hisoka than you." Silence took over. Chrollo set his teacup down with a clink.

Kurapika didn't know whether that was fair. "Tserriednich didn't recognize me," he said. "I mean, I saw him today, and he didn't seem like he'd seen me at the club. If he had I'm sure he'd have held it over my head."

"I'm glad," said Chrollo. "So, my plan worked."

Kurapika rolled his eyes. His face heated up again. "Why was that your go-to plan?"

"I told you. I didn't have time to think."

"Do you have random make-out sessions with people every time you need to deflect suspicion?"

"I'm attractive, I know that, but I'm not quite so lucky." Chrollo winked.

Kurapika snorted.

"And that's not a make-out session. Our lips were closed."

Kurapika wrinkled his nose.

"I can't believe you've never been kissed," Chrollo taunted.

"I've never been interested," Kurapika snapped. "I'm only eighteen. And people aren't exactly looking to date a street kid."

"Well, depends who," Chrollo said. "But you've been off the streets and in college for almost a year now, and you're attractive too. You have to know that."

Kurapika grabbed his earrings, the ones he hadn't taken out since he visited the club. _I_ ' _m attractive?_ His abdomen pinched. "Do you like men?"

"I like both men and women," said Chrollo, slouching. "You?"

Kurapika frowned. "I guess I never really thought about it." He supposed he was attracted to people he could talk to, to people who understood him. Which was not many people. Then again, he seldom tried to understand others.

"Your sexuality is revenge."

"Hey!" Kurapika grabbed a throw pillow and threw it at him. Chrollo caught it. A laugh emerged from his mouth, and from Kurapika's. He looked undignified, Chrollo did, for perhaps the first time, with his eyes lighting up and his mouth open. _You should laugh more._ Kurapika's stomach lurched.

Chrollo rubbed his cheek.

"Does it hurt?" Kurapika asked, gesturing towards the bruise.

"No."

"Why are you still lying?"

Chrollo cringed. "If you tell anyone I took some of that paracetamol I took from you last night, I will feed you to my fish."

"My lips are sealed." Kurapika leaned forward, peering at it. "Are you sure he didn't break anything?"

"I'm not worried about it." Chrollo tilted his head back, looking up at him with a wry smile.

"Why did you help me yesterday? You really didn't have to. You could have just told Illumi where I was," said Kurapika.

Chrollo frowned. "I don't really know. But I'm glad we came to a truce. Hisoka and I were always close to coming to blows in college and he would mock a professor who would say _make love, not war._ And for him it's more like _make love and war they're the same thing_. But even if he saw it as trash, I think it's a good philosophy, when you have other options that might be useful to you."

Kurapika's face was burning. "Make—you—"

Chrollo moaned, grabbing his hair. "Don't take it literally. You're going to fail your school's literature requirement."

Kurapika scowled, heart still beating fast. "So did you and Hisoka ever—"

"God no."

"And you think I'm useful to you?" He wasn't sure why he liked that. Maybe because at the very least he could believe he had a purpose then.

"We're working together, aren't we?"

"Why do you do what you do?" he said again, unsatisfied with the earlier answer. He wanted Chrollo to say what he already knew. _We're the same._

Chrollo shrugged. "I already answered?"

"Not entirely."

Chrollo nodded, as if to acknowledge his point. "Mm, that's not something I want to get into right now. Sorry."

"But you really don't hate me?" Kurapika pressed.

"Why does it matter if I hate you? You're useful, like I said." Chrollo exhaled, rolling his eyes. "No, Kurapika, I don't hate you. Why, do you want me to? Do you want to go back on this truce already?"

Not hardly. "I guess I just expect people to."

"Because you hate yourself?" Chrollo smirked. "Maybe it will annoy you if I say I don't hate you, then. But no, like I said, I don't. I think it's a useless emotion. You're a golden rage mushroom, like that nickname Hisoka's given you, but I don't hate that. And you're capable and smart, and talented. Advanced for your age."

 _Huh._ Kurapika's heart pounded. He could see the surface and strove. He had to get out of this whirlpool, but he couldn't do it alone. "But after what I did to your friends—"

"Oh Christ, again? It's up to me to decide whether or not it bothers me, right?" Chrollo complained. "I don't feel like letting it bother me."

Kurapika gulped in air. "Is that forgiveness?"

"I don't know."

Kurapika swallowed. He could breathe. "Well, whatever it is—thank you. Again. And for the other night. Thank you. For getting me out of there and—helping me hide from Tserriednich."

 _Do you want to know the truth?_

 _I didn't hate it._

 _I don't hate you._

 _I'm lonely._

Chrollo started, meeting his eyes. A strange look crossed his face. He smirked. "You know, I wouldn't have guessed that was your first kiss. You're not bad."

Kurapika wished he had a pillow to throw at Chrollo, but Chrollo held both now. "I can't decide if you genuinely meant that as a compliment or as an insult."

"A backhanded compliment?"

"Yeah, that."

"I meant it as a compliment, plain and simple. But now it's awkward, so you've ruined it."

Kurapika laughed. Chrollo did too, the sounds echoing together. _You... liked kissing me?_

 _Why?_ "Nothing you do is ever simple."

"Pot, meet kettle." Chrollo tossed the pillow back at him.

Kurapika caught it this time. It shielded his flushed face. He peeked out from behind it. "So you _liked_ kissing me?"

"Ah, so you're finally saying what you mean, and I'm damned no matter what answer I give." Chrollo exhaled. "I didn't plan on it and I felt badly because I didn't ask and I knew you would be pissed, but the actual—I mean, yes, I suppose. Like I said. You're cute. Am I about to get stabbed now?"

"No." Kurapika didn't understand, how Chrollo could see him as more than just what he'd done before Kurapika did anything to show him empathy. He was only just starting to see Chrollo that way. "I don't carry knives with me."

 _I want to learn._

Chrollo snickered. "They're in the kitchen. I dare you to try."

The room seemed so vast, and empty, despite the furnishings and velvet drapes and gleaming hardwood floors. Kurapika rose. Chrollo laughed.

 _What am I doing?_ He tugged his hair back with one hand. He squeezed his eyes shut. He leaned down. His lips pressed against Chrollo's.

"Whoa," said Chrollo, pushing him away.

"Sorry," Kurapika eked out. Now his face felt like it had been dipped in boiling water.

"You just really want more experience, huh?" Chrollo smirked.

"I—" _I don't know why I did that_. He felt cold in his hands, his shoulders, his legs.

"Kurapika." Chrollo grabbed his hands and pulled him down onto the couch. "I'm teasing you."

"I know." He didn't know whether he should run away, if Chrollo was about to lecture, or if he was about to—

Chrollo's face was centimeters away, dark eyes attached to Kurapika's. His fingers flicked the earrings. "I like these."

"If you steal them I'll feed _you_ to Indoor Fish."

Chrollo laughed again. He put his thumb on Kurapika's lips, eyes questioning. His other hand traced Kurapika's jawline, his cheekbones. _This is—you want—_

Kurapika bit it. Not hard.

And then Chrollo's mouth was on Kurapika's again. Lips closed. And then Chrollo opened Kurapika's mouth with his, and Kurapika copied his movements. Both of their mouths tasted like stale tea. Chrollo's hands roved through his hair. Kurapika decided to just wrap his arms around Chrollo, pulling him close. He wanted the warmth. One of Chrollo's hands slid across his shoulders.

 _Why am I doing this?_

 _I want to._

 _Why you? Why you?_

 _Why not?_

 _I'm such a fuck-up, and you know that, and you still called me to ask._ _If you can care, maybe I can_. He wanted hope. And there was a part of him glowing, a part of him that drew a kind of life from Chrollo, because he knew what Kurapika was. And still…

 _I'm scared._

Kurapika could feel his body starting to react. He broke away from Chrollo, shifting. _What the hell._

"Sorry," panted Chrollo. "Got carried away. I don't think you want _that_ much experience." He smiled, and Kurapika realized that Chrollo's tight pants did little to hide his own interest.

 _It wasn't just for experience._

But he had no idea how to say that, so he made small talk and left.

The entire walk back he couldn't decide it he wanted to punch himself or if the waves rushing through him were a good thing. Dread nipped at his heels. _Why did I kiss him? This was already awkward!_

 _I'm pathetic, is what I am._

He pushed open the door to his apartment.

"Oh, you're home!" cried Leorio. "How's it—" Leorio dropped a plate. It shattered.

"What?" yelped Kurapika.

"Your face," said Leorio. "Are you okay? You look like—like—"

"Upset," said Melody. "You look upset."

Of course, his perceptive friend was here too. Kurapika let out a growl. "I'm fine. Just tired. Babysitting was long." He dropped onto the couch and grabbed a pillow, plastering it over his face.

 _What have I done?_

A lump grew in his throat. Leorio, Melody, Gon, and Killua's words from the night before echoed and echoed in his mind. He hadn't called that therapist yet. He needed to. And he could still feel Chrollo's mouth on his, his arms encircling Kurapika, his tongue on his teeth, and he liked the memory.

"Were you at Oito's?" asked Melody.

Damn her. Kurapika's voice came muffled. "I wen' to tafk wiff Cwoho-"

"Um, what?" asked Leorio.

Kurapika removed the pillow and kept his eyes closed. "I went to talk to Chrollo afterwards. He has a story he's working on that brings up Ging. Gon's father. He wanted to know if he should publish it."

"What?" Leorio's mouth fell open.

"I said I didn't know but it would hurt Gon." Kurapika rolled his eyes.

"Back the fuck up," said Leorio. "I'm so confused."

 _I can't tell you_. Kurapika swallowed. His throat was so tight it hurt.

 _I want to trust you._

 _I don't know how._

"How long do you have?" he asked.

Leorio set the broom aside. "Long. Melody came over to help me with some—advice for a lady."

Kurapika had no way to even judge now. He swallowed and told them about the real reason he was working for Oito. And about her stepson, and her husband, and Chrollo and his friends' involvement. Leorio's face went white.

"We went to a club the other night to investigate Tserriednich and that's where—I had a—someone put something in my drink," said Kurapika.

"Chrollo has a history of—"

"It really wasn't Chrollo. He actually kind of helped me. He got me out of there and let me sleep it off at his place." Kurapika covered his face with his hands. The rings he always wore, one on each finger, felt cold against his cheek.

"Why didn't you call me?" demanded Leorio.

"I wasn't exactly aware of what was happening, and I didn't want you to know afterwards." _I'm ashamed._

"Not just _that_. You'd really rather work with someone you hate than trust me?" Leorio looked hurt.

Kurapika pushed himself up. "That's not it at all. I—I—" _I've really fucked up, and not how I thought I had._ "I don't hate Chrollo. Not really. Like I said. We called a truce." His heart picked up pace.

"What else?" asked Melody.

 _Are you psychic_? He scowled at her. "Nothing."

 _"What_ else?" Leorio asked, eyes widening.

He wanted to say it. He didn't want to. He wanted them to hate him. He didn't want them to. He wanted to hate himself, and he couldn't hate Chrollo. "At the club, Tserriednich almost saw my face, so Chrollo pretended to kiss me to block me from view."

"Pretended?" squeaked Leorio. "I'm sorry, what?"

"So then we were talking about it tonight, and I kissed _him_ and I—I don't even know why. I—" Kurapika stared down at his hands. Chrollo's lips had been warm, his fingers gentle in Kurapika's hair.

"I need a drink," declared Leorio. A smack. "Ow!"

Melody sighed. "Kurapika—"

"What?" he asked, voice trembling.

"What are you afraid of?" demanded Leorio. "That we'll say you're a pathetic, terrible person who never should have been born? Geez, is that really how you think we are? Fuck that."

"Huh?" Kurapika blinked.

Leorio tore at his hair. "Stop living for the sake of goddamn ghosts, okay? Take back the pen. Make your own life."

"What are you doing then?" Kurapika burst out. "Pursuing being a doctor—for your friend's memory—" _Help me, help me, please please please._

"Because I want to!" yelled Leorio. "Do you want to do this, Kurapika? Do you really? Or are these rubies and is this 'I must honor my parents' shtick really a way to apologize for the fact that you're alive? Well, I'm glad you're alive! Melody is glad—most of the time, except when you're giving her a migraine. Gon, Killua—"

Hot tears ran down Kurapika's face. "My parents—and—but—if I don't want to hate him anymore, who can I hate?"

"Tserriednich," suggested Leorio at the same time Melody said, "Do you want to hate anyone?"

Kurapika wiped his eyes. "Chrollo at least—he kind of understands. I did something—not so different to him. With Uvogin."

Leorio sighed. He dropped down next to Kurapika, wrapping an arm around him. "I _knew_ you weren't okay with that."

Kurapika scowled. _He took care of me because he sees himself in me_.

 _He made out with me just now because—because why?_

 _I don't want to drown._ He didn't want to be like him, but he already was. _I don't know how to atone._

 _Maybe if you don't have to, I won't have to. Maybe if I forgive, you can. Maybe._

 _I want to learn._

"You don't have to punish yourself to prove anything," added Leorio. "It's just making you a moody roommate."

Kurapika laughed.

"I think," said Melody quietly. "Your parents would want you to be happy."

"I don't know if I care," said Kurapika. There was one ghost whose opinion he did care about, though. A lot. "Have I ever told you about Pairo?"


	8. Ballad

**NSFW this chapter.**

* * *

Chrollo rolled his pen over and over again between his fingertips. Nobunaga was looking at him, expecting a decision.

"Hold the Freecss-Hill story for now," Chrollo decided. _Fuck_. But he kind of didn't want Kurapika mad at him again. Maybe because he'd just gotten Paku, Kortopi, and Shalnark back.

Shalnark's eyes widened. "Danchou, are you sure?"

He exhaled. "I'm sure." _Kurapika, you better be grateful_. This felt interesting. He flexed his fingers in front of himself.

He still couldn't believe the bastard kissed him last night. He wasn't exactly complaining. Kurapika was surprisingly—or not—heated, and spicy, given how his teeth had nibbled Chrollo's lips. There was something wrong about it all, something delicious and enticing. _Right?_

"Machi and I at Heil-Ly last night," Feitan said. "Phinks too."

"What?" Chrollo turned to them. "Do tell."

"Is that why you look green, Machi?" asked Shizuku, brow creased. She adjusted her glasses. "Hungover?"

Machi rolled her eyes. "I didn't drink."

"Morena Prudo's absolutely terrifying and fun to kiss," said Phinks. "Of course, she stole the fake wallet I'd planted, but—"

"So did you get answers or not?" asked Chrollo. "Is she working with Tserriednich?"

"Considering he didn't show up, we were thinking no, but then Phinks got her wallet while I pretended to get sick," Machi said. "That, Shizuku, is why I look like shit. There's only so much I can make myself vomit without feeling shitty."

"Anyways, her employees are surprisingly loyal," Phinks said, crossing his arms. "But not too much so. We just needed the right leverage, and a single mother carries leverage with her. I just had to mention I knew the woman had a kid. Yes, Tserriednich has shown up at her place before—not during club hours."

"I presume that employee won't share enough for an article," Chrollo said.

"No," said Feitan, adjusting his scarf. "But Heil-Ly bank account is getting larger. Kakin Hotels getting smaller."

"Is he filing money away to her?" Chrollo's eyes widened. This was—this was almost stupid. But then, Tserriednich didn't strike him as intelligent, only greedy and gifted. Morena, on the other hand…

 _Which one of you will stab each other in the back first?_ It could almost be a stage play to let it roll out, let them see which one would emerge a triumphant victor only to find it was pyrrhic, to find it stolen away.

" _If we take those rubies," Chrollo said. "We can move everyone here. It won't matter." Plus, they were beautiful. He planned to keep one for himself. The others, they could sell._

 _Uvogin grunted. "Should be easy enough. They're middle class nobodies."_

 _And they were true nobodies, all of them, human garbage. Through them Chrollo could see humanity. The strong in Uvogin, the intuitive in Machi, the loyal in Pakunoda, the passionate in Nobunaga, the cruel in Feitan, the brash in Phinks, the innocent in Shalnark._

 _We are your trash, but we are you and you are us. You threw us out and pretended we didn't exist, but we do, and now we'll become impossible for you to bear._

He hadn't kept the ruby long, because Chrollo never attached himself to anyone or anything to care. These people, they were the exception. He sold the Kurta ruby for information at some point, but he remembered how beautiful it had looked in his palm, reflecting the sunlight. And now it was Tserriednich's, along with all the others. Greedy prick.

For the first time, Chrollo felt something eating away at him, pricking and draining him like the one time he had lice as a seven-year-old. Pakunoda dumped gasoline on his head and took care of the stupid bugs. Was robbing the Kurtas worth it?

He couldn't think about that. Trash had no time for regrets.

"Think so," said Feitan.

He wasn't their leader, not really. He never wanted to be. They elected him, and he accepted it, because they wanted it. They were him and he was their head.

 _And Uvo is dead. Because of me._

 _No!_

He didn't want to fault Kurapika for it. He—he—how far back could you trace a chain of injuries, anyways? Anger, that was human trash, too.

He drummed the pen against his lips. "Start drafting an article."

"We should warn that wife," said Phinks. "In case she wants to get out."

"Her name is Oito and you know it," Machi commented.

"She's not implicated," Chrollo pointed out.

"Still," insisted Phinks.

"Do what you want," Chrollo told him. It wasn't like it mattered. But Kurapika should be happy, right? That Oito would soon be away from that man, and that baby too. He texted him. _Good news on T_.

It was the first time he texted since they made out the night before. Chrollo was surprised to see a text light up his phone within a few minutes.

 _Do you want to meet & tell me what happened? _

_In an hour,_ Chrollo texted back. He doubted the rest of his friends would be happy to see Kurapika just waltz into their meeting. Once Tserriednich wound up in prison, Nasubi would crack, he was certain. Unless one of the other children… "We should still keep turning stones on the husband. I don't want to take the chance he gets away with anything."

"Agreed," Phinks said instantly.

Kurapika arrived minutes after everyone left. Chrollo let him in, raising his eyebrows.

"I heard their voices and hid behind a tree," Kurapika said, ducking inside from the unseasonably cool night.

"Clever." Chrollo rolled his eyes.

"What's happening?" Kurapika hugged himself.

Damn. So he was self-conscious over what happened the night before. Chrollo supposed it wasn't unexpected. He headed to the kitchen to make tea, Kurapika following. He dumped the rooibos into a strainer as he detailed what they'd found out. "But I won't authorize the story until I know we can get Nasubi, as well."

"If you wanted to let up on Nasubi," said Kurapika. "Oito can take care of herself. She's resourceful, and determined. I'd still help her in whatever way I could."

"Hm?" Chrollo blinked. "But then you won't get your rubies back."

Kurapika paled. He stared at his shoes, black flats. "Are you trying to help me with that?"

Chrollo pulled out two mugs. "I suppose." Vengeance satisfied could give light to the next thing ahead of Kurapika. He would be delighted to see what that might be. The water bubbled, boiling. "Bitter that you might get help from us?" His voice lilted.

"I went to see Pairo today," Kurapika said quietly. "His grave. With Melody, and Leorio. We put flowers there."

Chrollo poured the water into the mugs, letting the tea steep.

"No," said Kurapika. "I don't know. After what I did to Uvo—you're people, too."

 _People?_ Chrollo turned to him, resting his elbow on the counter. "We're holding the story on Gon's father for now."

Kurapika nodded. "Thanks."

"Did that hurt to say?"

"I mean I said it last night. And the night before. And I don't have any pride left; it died the night you had to wipe up my vomit."

Chrollo laughed.

"Also Melody and Leorio are making me see a therapist."

"Cheadle?" asked Chrollo. "Has Leorio asked her to be his plus-one to Hisoka and Illumi's wedding yet?"

Kurapika frowned. "No, it's someone else. And no. What do you mean?"

Chrollo gave him a skeptical glance.

Kurapika's eyebrows flew up. He smirked.

"Who are you bringing?" Chrollo asked.

"I haven't really thought about it. Melody? No, she was invited." Kurapika frowned. "Don't tell me this is you trying to weasel an invitation."

"I don't fancy a broken nose. I'd be wearing a suit and I like my suits unsullied, thank you. Also I think Illumi would rather spend his wedding night making sweet or more likely, kinky, love to his husband rather than bailing him out of jail for attempted homicide." Chrollo removed the tea strainers.

" _Attempted_ because he wouldn't succeed? Without drugs I give Hisoka the advantage," Kurapika remarked.

Chrollo cast him a look. "You'd like that, wouldn't you." He didn't know why he kept poking at Kurapika tonight. He wanted to _know_. He had questions, and he didn't know how to ask them.

Kurapika glowered. "No." He drummed his fingers on the counter. "About what happened last night—"

Ah. Finally. Here it would come. Chrollo rinsed his hands. "Yes?"

"I—" Kurapika cut himself off. "I don't know what to say. I mean, I had—I—it was—I mean I didn't—I was—"

"Should I take a seat?" Chrollo asked. "Or are you going to spit it out?"

"Thank you," said Kurapika, meeting his eyes. "For—talking to me at the graveyard. Again. Okay, that's the fourth time I've said it so if you don't get it now you're stupid. And—okay, that wasn't what I meant to say. I'm _sorry_. I'm sorry for what I did to Uvogin. To you, too, with hiring those assassins."

Wow. Chrollo hadn't expected that, and truthfully, it made him uncomfortable. He'd said it before, Kurapika had, but not like this. Not with true shame and regret, not focused on Chrollo and not on himself. Chrollo leaned back against the sink.

He enjoyed secrets. Why wasn't he enjoying this? Or was he? His breath quickened, and something tightened in his chest, a feeling he hadn't felt since... since... he wasn't certain whether it was a memory, or a dream, but it was a comfort, a story he told himself, a fairytale, all to comfort himself into slumber on the streets of Meteor City. But he wasn't certain the story existed outside of his mind, or if he'd dreamed it, and he couldn't remember the details. "Now, Kurapika, is this just your attempt to seduce me?"

Kurapika's jaw dropped. His eyes sparked.

"You don't owe me anything," said Chrollo. "I appreciate what you've done, though." Kurapika's sense of justice, still—it made Chrollo want to crawl back, hide in the shadows. And he didn't need it. They were too different, and too alike, but they could accomplish a few things together. Like this story, for Oito.

"You don't owe me anything, either," pointed out Kurapika.

"I know." And yet he was still here, talking to him.

 _I like that light_. It was so interesting. It was a story he couldn't predict. That was what he'd initially liked about Hisoka when he first met him. It was unpredictable. It was exhilarating, but he wanted to write its ending, and he couldn't, because Kurapika stole that pen.

 _You can keep it for now_.

Kurapika brushed blond strands from his forehead. He gave him a frown.

"What?"

"You're easy to read."

"Pardon?"

"Thank you," said Kurapika. "For the fifth time. Thanks for helping me, and for helping Oito, and Gon. I do appreciate it." He waved off the tea, turning.

 _I just made it!_ _Don't waste good tea!_ "Just say whatever you want to say," Chrollo said irritably. "'Thank you' as a smokescreen is pathetic."

Kurapika stuck his hand in the air, flipping Chrollo off as he continued down the hall, but his casual steps told Chrollo he wasn't that offended.

 _Just say what you want to say._ Chrollo gripped the countertop behind him. "Kurapika!"

He paused, turning. "Are you going to lecture me on redundancy again?"

"You didn't swear at me this time," Chrollo countered.

Kurapika rolled his eyes. "I can fix that." But he then closed his mouth.

Silence. A clock, ticking. Their chests, rising, falling, breathing.

 _What do you want to say?_

 _What do I want to say?_

 _What do you want?_

"If I asked you to stay," said Chrollo. "Would you?"

 _I want to kiss you again, if you stay._

 _I want to learn more about you, if you stay._

Kurapika's face was scarlet. "I mean—I—"

"You're beautiful," said Chrollo. An age-old seduction line. And he meant it, truly. He half-expected Kurapika to walk away.

Kurapika's jaw dropped. But he stayed put.

Chrollo moved towards him. He cupped Kurapika's face. His eyes, red now, glittered up at Chrollo. Chrollo lowered his lips to his. He moved them towards Kurapika's ears so that he could say it without looking him in those burning eyes. "I like—this. You."

Kurapika stood on tiptoes, pulling his head down. Kissing him back. And then he pushed Chrollo back against the wall, and Chrollo let go of all control.

 _Why would you make this choice? Of all choices, why me?_

That wasn't pleasant to consider. Not right now when Kurapika's mouth was warm and wet against his. He pushed the thought away, focusing on the man in his arms.

* * *

Kurapika's lips were numb. He didn't know how long they'd been standing in this dumb hallway, but he didn't particularly want to leave. Chrollo's hand gripped the back of his neck, and his other arm wrapped around his waist, his tongue warm.

 _What am I_ —

He didn't want to finish that thought. This was—this felt good. Chrollo's fingers fumbled to open the collar of his shirt.

"What are you—" Kurapika cut himself off when Chrollo pressed his lips against the nape of his neck, taking his skin in his mouth. "Hngh…" He panted. _What is this feeling?_ His stomach knotted, twisting and tightening. Sweat dampened the back of his neck. It twinged, but not the kind of pain he was used to. His hands rested on Chrollo's hips. He could feel his body reacting and flushed.

Chrollo gripped the top of his head. "Do you want to—you can say no."

"I—" _Don't want to say no._ "Yes."

"Can we go upstairs then?" Chrollo panted. "It'd be more comfortable than my kitchen."

Kurapika nodded. He tried to catch his breath as he climbed the stairs to Chrollo's room.

"You've never... I mean, this would be your first time, right?" Chrollo asked. Kurapika sat on the bed.

"Yeah." Kurapika didn't care. He just wanted to feel right now, and at least, at least when he looked at Chrollo, he felt like someone knew him, and still wanted him, and—believed in him.

 _Why? Why do you feel that way? I don't understand. But I want to._

Chrollo grabbed a box of condoms and a container of lubricant from the dresser. "Sex without these is just stupid." He let out his breath.

Kurapika reached up, grabbing his arm. Was Chrollo flustered?

 _You_ are.

"Hey," said Kurapika, looking up into his eyes. "It's—okay, you know. I want to."

Chrollo lowered himself onto the bed, kissing Kurapika again. He fumbled to take off his shirt. The moment his abs came into view he pulled away to fold his shirt.

 _Fuck that._ Kurapika grabbed him, tossing the shirt away. Chrollo laughed. An actual laugh, again. His hands reached for Kurapika's shirt. Kurapika pulled it over his head.

"Damn," mumbled Chrollo. "You do work out."

"Sometimes." Kurapika pulled him closer again, lips plastered together. Neither of them could speak. Kurapika's breaths came harsh, gasps really. His hands slid to Kurapika's hips, and then Chrollo removed them, tugging at his own pants, and Kurapika took off his. _I want this. This is my choice._ And then Kurapika was on his back, and neither of them had any clothes on, anything to disguise them. Chrollo paused, one arm wrapped under Kurapika's back.

"'S okay," panted Kurapika.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't care."

"Well, I do." Chrollo leaned down and kissed him again. "We'll start—slow." He used one of his hands, and strangely this felt more intimate than what Kurapika had been imagining. But it didn't feel bad. He exhaled, focusing on Chrollo's face.

 _A few days ago we hated each other. Didn't we?_ He arched his neck up, kissing Chrollo's neck.

"Ready?" asked Chrollo.

"Yeah." Kurapika's hands dug into Chrollo's shoulder blades. _Ow_. Kurapika winced at first. _Breathe_. He let out his breath. Chrollo glanced at him, checking. "I'm okay," he managed. "Really."

"Your eyes are red."

He wasn't surprised. "Mm."

"They're beautiful," Chrollo said again, a hand tracing his cheekbone.

Kurapika tilted up to kiss him. He moved first, and Chrollo matched his movements then, and then Kurapika followed him. _This is crazy. We should hate each other._

 _I don't hate you._

 _I might trust you._

The tension building in him curled and snaked through his torso, his limbs, and he wanted it to explode into something, to mean something, to feel something other than the despair shackling him for years. He wanted to know what it felt like to be alive again. He wanted—he wanted— _this._ Closeness. Warmth. A dance, and a shoulder to rest on, an arm around his waist and a heart beating against his, eyes looking down into his with an expression he'd never seen before, dark eyes. Kurapika's limbs trembled, and he let it all, the past five years, the faces, the voices, fade away, only focusing on here, on now, and he felt light.

Chrollo exhaled, dropping his head to Kurapika's chest. Kurapika's palms pressed his cheeks, lifting his face up. His lips found that cross, that stupid tattoo, the one he'd insulted so many times and still thought was a terrible idea, but that strangely, in this moment, looked beautiful.

* * *

Kurapika pried his eyes open. Rain pattered outside, tapping the glass in a vicious rhythm. Soft satin rested atop him, and an arm rested against his side.

He sat up. He felt a little sore, but nothing really painful. And regret—it chipped at him, and he shoved it away.

 _No_.

Chrollo stirred. His eyes widened and he pushed himself up. "Morning."

"Morning." Kurapika rubbed his head, staring at him. The ridiculously-hued blankets covered both of them from the waist down, but both of their chests were bare. Chrollo had a mark on his pec.

 _We actually had sex._

Kurapika scrambled up. "Shit, Leorio will be worried." Sure enough, he had about a dozen texts on his phone. _I am the worst friend._

"You're okay?" Chrollo asked.

"He's going to kill me." Kurapika glanced at Chrollo. "Oh. Yeah. I'm—that was—I was—happy." _Were you worried I'd be mad?_

Chrollo's face relaxed. He nodded. "You can use my shower, unless you're in a hurry to let your friend kill you."

"Not at the moment." Kurapika took him up on his offer. It was a rain shower. Of course. But the hot water soothed his muscles.

 _I like him. I like Chrollo._

 _I want to keep doing this._

 _Can we? Was_ he _happy?_

He stepped out of the shower and examined his skin. He had a mark on his neck, where Chrollo had kissed him. Most of his shirts would cover it, though. Damn, he'd left his shirt in the bedroom. He towel-dried his hair, pulled up his pants, and exited the bathroom.

"Um—" a voice said.

"Mother of God."

"The hell?" snarled a second.

Kurapika froze. And found himself looking at a horrified Chrollo, Pakunoda, and Illumi Zoldyck. Words fled him.

"Don't say a word," Chrollo burst out.

"I don't—I'm afraid I don't understand," said Illumi.

Kurapika couldn't focus on him. All he could do was stare at Pakunoda, and remember what he'd done to her. And then he remembered the mark on his neck and his face burned. His hand flew up to cover it, but all that did was make Illumi's gaze zero in on it. Illumi's expressionless mask was failing him.

"I suppose I'll go now," said Pakunoda, turning.

"Wait," said Kurapika as Chrollo said, "I'll text you."

She turned to him. Kurapika wrapped his arms around himself, wishing he at least had his shirt for cover. "Can I—talk to you?"

For a moment he thought she would decline. He would have, if he were her. But instead she cocked her head. "Okay."

Kurapika grabbed his shirt from the room, slipped it on, and followed her down to the living room. "I—I'm sorry." He looked out the window, at the drenched yard and street beyond. "I know that probably doesn't mean much. Words are cheap. But I am—sorry."

Pakunoda stared at him. "Why?"

"Making you hurt the same way I did—isn't helping me feel any better," said Kurapika. He glanced at Indoor Fish, swirling around its glass cage.

"So it has to do with you."

He swallowed.

"I don't fault you," said Pakunoda. "If I were you, I would have done the same."

 _Really? It's that easy? Are you actually okay with me?_ He didn't understand. _How?_

Was it possible she was a better person than he was, the entire time? Or was there no such thing as a better, or a worse, person?

She rose. "If you are truly sorry, Kurapika Kurta, then you owe it to be honest with me."

"Hm?"

"What are you doing with Danchou?"

"Chrollo?" Kurapika flushed. "I—" He didn't know what to say.

"Are you planning on hurting him? Because if you are, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth to hurt you in ways you cannot even imagine." Her voice lowered and her eyes glittered.

Kurapika swallowed. His face felt like his skin was scalding, blistering off. He shook his head. "I don't want to hurt him." He met her eyes.

Pakunoda's brows rose. She studied him.

Kurapika pressed his lips together.

"I believe you." She extended her hand. "Very well then. But others in the group will—not feel the same way."

Kurapika took her hand. He hung his head.

"By the way," she said. "I'm truly sorry about your family. I should not have done that."

Kurapika blinked. His vision blurred. She gave him a sad smile.

They rejoined Chrollo and Illumi in the kitchen. "Why are you here?" Kurapika asked Illumi, who looked as if he was caught in a washing machine of his worst nightmares.

"To tell Chrollo that Palm Siberia, a friend of Killua's, came over to our place with Ikalgo and was telling Kalluto some information on Pariston Hill," said Illumi. "Which means my brother is still working for you even though—"

"I bluntly told him not to," said Chrollo, holding up his hands. "I think you're just going to have to face that they do what they want, those brothers of yours, Illumi."

Illumi looked as if he'd drunken sour milk. "Well, Palm told Milluki and Kalluto that he was asking some questions about Killua and how close he is to the man here that my fiancé refers to as the Golden Rage Mushroom."

"Hey!" Kurapika exclaimed.

Chrollo laughed. Again. Kurapika smiled. Chrollo caught him looking at him and his eyes widened.

"Don't endanger my brother again," warned Illumi. "Take care of Pariston, and do it now."

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed because starting next chapter we're in for pain. :')**


	9. Augmentation

"For real?" grunted Leorio when he found Kurapika waiting outside his biology lecture hall. He hadn't answered Kurapika's _I'm fine. Are you?_ texts. "I was so damn scared."

"I'm sorry," Kurapika said, heart thumping. Leorio was not happy with him. Not at all.

"You say that a lot." Leorio slung his bag over his shoulder. " _I'm okay_ doesn't really suffice after like twelve hours of not responding and for a sleepless night. Do you know how many cups of coffee I've had today just to hold my eyes open? Five, Kurapika. Five. My blood is caffeine at this point. Shit, I need water. I'm dehydrated, I'm sure."

Kurapika hurried to catch up with him. "I mean it. I _am_ sorry."

"Then prove it." Leorio looked at him. "Please, Kurapika."

 _Leorio, I was out having sex with someone I thought I hated once_. Kurapika halted. He didn't know how to say it. Wasn't Leorio his friend? Shouldn't Kurapika care about them, because they cared about him? _They've given so much to help me_. _And I..._

He'd focused way more on whom he hated than whom he loved. How fucked up, and it had all been—empty.

"Do you want to get dinner tonight?" Kurapika managed. "You and, Gon and Killua? If Illumi gives permission, that is. I'm babysitting Woble but I'll be out by seven." _Please say yes._

 _Please give me a chance._

Leorio paused. He tossed a smile over his shoulder, the same smile he gave Kurapika when they were running through the streets, when he realized he might just have made a friend. "Don't be late, and you're paying."

"Done." Kurapika grinned. "I'll text them." He hesitated. "Leorio?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks." He nodded at him and then jogged off. He sat through his history class with Melody, who gave him a wry look that suggested she knew exactly where he was and what he'd been up to the night before. Kurapika's face burned. He texted Gon and Killua, and Illumi for permission.

 _As long as you don't mention copulating with Chrollo,_ Illumi responded. Kurapika rolled his eyes and texted his friends.

 _HELL YEAH,_ texted Killua. _Can I bring Alluka & Kalluto? Kalluto's been grounded & he's finally free & he's dying to get out.  
_

 _Obviously_ , Kurapika replied.

 _Hooray!_ said Gon, followed by smiley-face emojis.

Chrollo texted him when he got out of class. _Hey, I have to work on the story all night. Illumi's being demanding. Do you want to come over and make tea for me?_

 _After ten?_ Kurapika responded. _I'm meeting my friends for dinner._

 _Sure._

He tugged at his earrings. This felt so strange. _Why does he know me?_ More so than with Leorio or Gon or Killua, he knew Chrollo knew how ugly he could be. Chrollo had seen that, when Kurapika lashed out at him. And he still liked him.

 _Maybe Leorio, Gon, Killua, Melody_ _—maybe they wouldn't have judged me._

 _Maybe they understood more than I thought._

He headed to the pharmacy to buy some tea bags. He froze when he spotted a familiar face waiting by the door when he went to leave, a bag on her arm. _You've gotta be kidding me!_

Machi Komacine turned to him. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted him. And then he realized. She'd been expecting him. She'd been following him.

Machi closed the gap between them with only a few paces. Her hand clamped down on Kurapika's arm. "Let's go outside, bastard." She dragged him out into the street, shoving him back against the building. Her elbow pinned him to the wall.

Kurapika gagged. The mist fell around them.

"Paku told me that you're fucking Danchou, or letting him fuck you, I don't know and I don't care. But if you are still in league with Hisoka, I will hunt you down and this time I will do what you didn't have the guts to do. I will kill you, and I'll do it myself. Do you understand me?"

Kurapika struggled. "Let go of me!"

"Why?" Machi demanded, digging her elbow deeper into his shoulder. "Why would I trust you? After what you did to my friends—"

 _I'm just complicating things for Chrollo_. Kurapika swallowed. "It's not like that. I don't talk to Hisoka anymore."

"I know you apologized to Paku, but I don't buy it for a minute, you—"

"I do mean it!" Kurapika insisted. "I—" His voice clogged. Why would she believe him? Why would anyone believe him? He'd always put himself and his feelings in the moment first, not—

 _It was never about my family. It was about—me._

And then he noticed something in the bag. His eyes bulged.

Machi glanced down. She scowled. But she released him.

"Are you—" Kurapika stopped himself.

"Not a word, _bastard_." Machi shoved her finger in his face.

"I won't," Kurapika promised.

"Your word is trash to me. Prove it." She turned and stalked off.

That was a pregnancy test, wasn't it? Kurapika stared after her. _Chrollo is a friend you want to protect. No matter the cost._

 _I don't have any idea what justice is._ His head swam. Maybe he _never_ had any idea what justice was. His world felt as if it was tilting and he was freefalling, cartwheeling, and he didn't know how to stop, what to grab onto. _Chrollo_ _—what if I'm_ _—Leorio, Gon, Killua_ _—Melody_ —

 _I just want a safety net. Something to catch me._

No, he wanted arms. Someone. He looked down at his own arms and thought how afraid he was that they weren't strong enough to break his fall.

He made it to Oito's, and she thanked him again for coming. Woble threw her arms up, wrapping them around his shoulder. He cooed to her and she giggled.

 _You still see good in me. You make me want to be good._

Chrollo thought he could be. Chrollo made something of his life from trash—maybe—maybe—and Leorio, and Melody, all of them—they thought he could be good. But he was bad, stained, garbage. But not useless.

But he wanted to be more than useful, greedy though it felt. _I want to matter. I want to do_ good _._

Oito gave him permission to take Woble on a walk to a local park. Kurapika strapped her into her stroller and walked her outside. The rain had cleared, though clouds still lurked in the distance.

His phone rang. Kurapika answered. "Hello?"

"Hey!" called Gon's voice. "Guess what? Killua, Alluka, Kalluto, and me just got out of school. We know you're babysitting, but can we come by?"

Kurapika chuckled. "I'm at a park. Sure." They could meet Woble. Oito wouldn't mind, he was sure. She would like his friends. And this way he was away from the possibility of running into Tserriednich.

* * *

Chrollo cussed to himself. He had shut himself up in his favorite café, drinking lemon ginger tea and slaving over this Pariston article because Illumi had not been joking. He promised Kurapika he would word the article carefully, so as not to blame Ging per se. But if the man really was a sleazebag, as it seemed like he was, then—

A chair scraped the floor. Chrollo lifted his eyes.

He didn't remember the last time he felt this kind of shock. Not even when Hisoka turned in his friends. That was more of a boiling rage. But this—his blood turned into ice, solidifying and crackling in his veins.

"Hey, you," chirped Pariston Hill, dropping into the seat across from him. He flashed Chrollo a huge grin, resting his cheek on his fist. "So good to see you."

"Is school over for the day or did you ditch the kids?" Chrollo asked. He lowered his laptop screen.

"It's over, and I cancelled the faculty meeting. I'm the principal. I can do what I want."

"I'm quite certain that isn't how it's supposed to work." God, this man was annoying as hell. Chrollo took a sip of tea. Not even that could erase the chill encasing him.

"Do tell me how it's supposed to work. From what I hear, you somehow passed your college entrance exams without so much as finishing a day of high school."

"Makes me more intelligent than you, perhaps," said Chrollo. "Or fate or someone upstairs was looking out for me."

Pariston smoothed his hair. He chuckled. "You really are a child."

"Excuse me?"

"You're naïve, aren't you?" asked Pariston. He rubbed his chin, still smiling. Chrollo wanted to take scissors and snip that mouth right off. "That's why you let a murderous teenager go when he hired the Ant Gang to assassinate you last summer."

"You like fanciful stories, don't you?" Chrollo retorted. His chest tightened.

Pariston's smile grew wider. "I heard hate and love can be two sides of the same coin."

"That would be more adult than childlike, wouldn't it be?" Chrollo asked. _Who would_ _—who knows? How?_ Well, Chrollo was good at playing this game. No one was a better liar.

"I wonder just how it would affect his future prospects if it were to get out that he was a murderer—almost," said Pariston. "Did you know, Chrollo, that when Kurapika Kurta was five years old his cousin saved him from falling off a cliff on a family hike? At least that was the story he told to the police. Too bad the cousin had permanent ligament damage in his hips and knees and a traumatic brain injury that left him partially blind. I would think with a family with all those fraud rumors, and with the fact that Kurapika hired people to assassinate you later on—well, I wonder if, should it all come out, people would think he did that on purpose too. Maybe it's just fate that he's born a murderer. At the very least it would certainly jeopardize his little redemption arc."

 _Pairo_. Chrollo swallowed. _That's not true. Kurapika would not have_. He had no doubts about that. But so many other puzzle pieces making up the patchwork that was Kurapika clicked into place.

 _This guilt isn't new for you._

 _You've been shackled with it since you were five, haven't you? Always blaming yourself for things that weren't your fault._

 _How childish._

"Rumors have no place on my news site," Chrollo said. "Not an interesting story."

"That's some bullshit right there. Also, you're not the only one in town, you know," Pariston cooed.

"Go ahead. I don't care. He's someone who tried to kill me, like you said."

Pariston giggled. "You really are a good liar. But you _are_ lying."

Pariston was a fool. Chrollo wasn't so vulnerable, and he was tired of this man's games. "Try me."

"I am trying you." Pariston drummed his fingers on the table. "I'd suggest killing that story you're working on on me and Ging. I just need to see people's faces when I get a council seat, and when I ruin Ging's seat on the council. I've never really hated anyone like that before and I'm curious what I'll do to him. I'll quit soon after."

"So you'll do a disservice to the people whom you're supposed to be serving?" A million faces whizzed through Chrollo's mind. The gang runners in Meteor City. The man who killed his mother. Nasubi. He looked down at the table, shining wood. His face's reflection blurred.

"Mm, I think my serving wouldn't really serve them, so they'll be happy, or they won't be, and I don't care either way." Pariston leaned forward. "Isn't this fun, Chrollo Lucilfer? How do you like it? How do you like sitting in the same seat you've assigned so many others? And I'm even affording you to courtesy of giving you an offer! You only did that when you needed money, right? For what purpose? A rare book? I know you collect them. For a repair to that filthy coat you wear every day? I'm doing it—"

"Not out of the kindness of your heart," Chrollo cut in. "And you're wrong. I don't care."

"True, but for my own purposes." Pariston's teeth gleamed. Chrollo now wanted to staple those flapping lips together. "And I'm right. You don't want to lose yourself, now, do you? But you already lost him, haven't you? Uvogin's _dead_. You're fucking—or at least making out with—someone who might as well have killed him. The only reason your friends, who are really just leeches, might stick around you is because you've created a cult where they need you, because you just want to be needed to convince yourself that you mean something, that you're right, that you don't have choices, that it's all okay, that everything has been okay because if you saw an ounce of unfairness you'd break. You're in debt yourself from the lawyer fees to save Pakunoda, Shalnark, and Kortopi because Zoldyck's money wasn't enough. You're—"

"Shut up," Chrollo heard himself say. Blood roared in his ears, cold. He couldn't think. His mind was frozen. _Work!_

A child running down the streets, blood cooling against his skin, hardening, cracking, curling up against the wind and the sight he'd just seen, but the chill broke through his threadbare jacket anyways.

 _Work!_

He felt cold seeping deeper into his bones. His tea was cool.

"I'm only doing what you've been doing all along," said Pariston, covering his mouth as he snickered. "Take my blackmail, or leave it, in which case I think your—friend with benefits—might spiral again. How would you like to see that? Whom will Kurapika have hate sex with next? You don't think he actually cares, do you? Maybe I'll make a pass at him. He is cute, after all, with that golden hair. Hell, I thought he was a pretty girl the first time I saw him. If he could fuck you, then I'm sure he'd do me, too. I'd like to fuck him myself and see what he looks like. Do those eyes turn red when he comes or—"

Chrollo wasn't aware when he stood up, but the next thing he knew his hands were wrapped around Pariston's throat and the employees were shouting.

"You're just like me," Pariston wheezed.

"I'm nothing like you," Chrollo hissed, releasing him.

"Hm. I suppose you're pathetic. You lose. I win. Either choice you make, you're going to lose, and I suppose you must accept that." Pariston stumbled back. "Man, that made me dizzy. But yeah. Kill the story by this weekend or I will do what I have to do. Please, _darling_ Chrollo, _don't_ make me do it. Do you like that kind of talk?"

 _You piece of shit.  
_

Pariston pranced out of the café, where everyone who worked at his favorite café was now looking at Chrollo like he was some kind of demon. Not that he— _fuck, fuck, fuck_.

Chrollo grabbed his laptop and his coat. He had to think. He had to start at the beginning. Just like always. Start from the ground up. _Who knew? Who might have let it slip somehow?_

This day, Chrollo knew, was about to get a hell of a lot worse. He found himself at his destination, staring up at the last house he wanted to approach. The sun dangled lower in the sky. Chrollo pounded on the door.

"Why is this happening?" Illumi greeted him with the exact sentence Chrollo wanted to ask.

"I need to talk to you right fucking now," Chrollo snapped.

"Illumi?" called Milluki's voice. He jogged up from the basement. "Oh. _Hey Hisoka!_ Guess who's—"

Hisoka appeared from the kitchen. His eyes turned into golden daggers. Chrollo glared back at him. _Did you convince Illumi to tell Pariston just to_ _—but Illumi would never risk Kalluto_ —it had to have been him, though.

"You better have a damn good reason for being here," Hisoka drawled, the three of them standing in the kitchen with Milluki banned to the basement again. The other three Zoldycks were out. With Kurapika.

All of their arms were crossed. Probably because they hated him and Chrollo hated them. Well, Hisoka, at least. "Pariston Hill is trying to blackmail me."

Hisoka burst out laughing. "Not a good enough reason. Get out."

"He knows," said Chrollo. "About—" He turned to Illumi. "You told someone, didn't you?"

"I visited Chrollo to tell him to publish the news on Pariston and Ging before Kalluto and Alluka were more at risk," Illumi said to his fiancé. Hisoka shrugged. "Tell anyone about what?"

"You know what," Chrollo hissed.

Illumi scratched his head. "Oh. You and Kurapika?"

"Did you drug him too?" taunted Hisoka.

Chrollo jabbed his finger at him. "Shut the fuck up."

"No," said Illumi. "They were sleeping together. At least Kurapika was shirtless when I showed up. And it looked like he had slept over. And both of them had marks on them and seemed quite content—"

"Illumi, is that much detail really necessary?" snapped Chrollo. But if that meant Illumi hadn't told Hisoka...

Hisoka's mouth fell open. He looked as if he couldn't decide whether to laugh or faint. "This is too bizarre even for me. You're really fucking him? He's fucking you? Why would he do that?"

"I don't know," Chrollo say, his voice—small. "I just—we—" _It's nothing._

 _Is it?_

"Spare me the details, that's confirmation enough." Hisoka shook his head. "Actually I want details. All of them. If I have to suffer your presence you owe me at least who made the first move."

"Pariston has information on Kurapika," said Chrollo. "He knows about—I didn't tell anyone about my not pressing charges, about the assassination thing—he's threatening to leak that and whole lot of other shit unless I kill the story on him and Ging. And he knows Kurapika and I are involved with each other, somehow."

"Maybe take a look at the one other person who was there," Illumi said. "Because it wasn't me, and I'm not lying, and you can tell, can't you?"

Chrollo didn't know what to do. "Pakunoda would never have told that rat a thing."

"She might have told someone else who might have told him."

Chrollo didn't know what to say. _But_ _—_ "I can't publish that article on Pariston, Illumi."

"Wait, what?" asked Hisoka. "This is the perfect opportunity to take down two birds with one stone. _Unless_ , of course, you really don't think of Kurapika that way, as an enemy, anymore." His eyes lasered Chrollo.

" _I don't think of him that way,"_ Chrollo growled. _I_ _—he doesn't hate me anymore, does he?_ Because to hate him and then not hate him—that's fascinating to Chrollo. It almost made him feel connected, human, known.

"Holy shit," said Hisoka. "Well, you have some nerve to show up here and tell Illumi you won't do what he wants."

Illumi did, indeed, look as if he was contemplating skewering Chrollo. Chrollo gritted his teeth. "Then help me figure out a way to stop Pariston from leaking this." It wasn't important who told. It was only important that he fix this.

"What?" Hisoka leaned forward, cupping his hand around his ear. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you. Could you say that a little louder, please?"

 _Fuck you_. "Help me," Chrollo eked out.

"Fine," said Hisoka. "But only to hear you beg whenever I want it, and also because I want Illumi happy."

All this because Chrollo beat him in wrestling.

No. All this because Chrollo drugged him. Chrollo remembered the terror on Kurapika's face that next morning, when he couldn't remember what had happened, the way he'd slurred his words and clearly had no idea whom he was talking to nor what about. The graveyard. Chrollo hadn't paid attention to what happened when Hisoka woke up, as he'd taken off after beating him in that match, but Machi said he was pissed.

 _Shit._

Hisoka sighed. "I have an idea."

"Oh no," said Illumi.

* * *

"She's so cute!" shrieked Alluka, reaching out for Woble. Kurapika smiled. Alluka started singing a lullaby as Woble grabbed onto her hair.

"You seem happy," Gon said to Kurapika.

He smiled. He supposed he was.

"Bought you some lemonade," called Killua, heading over from the vendor who had been calling out to them. He handed a cup to Gon.

"I don't want it," said Kalluto.

"Fine."

Kurapika waved it away.

"I'll take it in a bit," said Alluka, swaying back and forth as she danced with the baby.

Killua nodded. He took a sip. "How's college?"

"Fun," said Kurapika. "I do like my classes."

"Good."

Kalluto let out a sigh, dropping onto the grass under a tree. Kurapika frowned at him. "I heard you've been still working on Pariston Hill."

"I like working."

"What do you like about it?" Kurapika asked. _You're still just a kid._

"It's fun," Kalluto said, looking up at him as if he was stupid. "And it makes me feel useful."

Gon and Killua were yelling now, chasing each other around. Kurapika smiled. "You don't have to keep trying to prove yourself useful, you know." He wanted to hear those words himself. He wanted to, and yet he didn't. He wanted his life to just _be_ useful itself, intrinsically.

Kalluto cocked his head.

"People think highly of you," Kurapika added. "Chrollo, and your brother—he's worried about you—"

"Illumi's constantly worried about something."

"He loves you."

"I know." Kalluto pulled his knees up to his chest. "He's just still figuring out what that means."

 _And you, you're still figuring out what it means to be loved_? Kurapika pressed his lips together. He thought of Pairo, how Kurapika wanted to cure him, how he was determined to be a doctor like Leorio once, or a famous engineer, or— _anything_ , to have the money to get Pairo treatment. Because it was his fault, and to this day Kurapika had nightmares about Pairo falling off that cliff, seeing his friend tiny and broken because he'd pulled Kurapika back from the edge.

 _Did you ever want me to slow down, to stop trying to earn your friendship?_

He wished he could ask Pairo.

"I'm dizzy," complained Gon, sitting down. Killua rolled his eyes. Alluka headed over to Kurapika and Kalluto, still cooing over Woble, who looked like she had a new best friend. _I've been replaced._ Kurapika grinned.

"I really don't feel well," said Gon, doubled over and pressing his head against the ground. Killua grabbed his shoulder.

 _Hm?_ Kurapika hurried over. "Gon—" He froze. The lemonade seller stood nearby.

And she had two scars over her face.

The two of them stared at each other.

"Fuck," gasped Killua, shaking Gon. Killua's own face was pale. Sweaty. His voice slurred.

"Kalluto, Alluka," said Kurapika, his heart pounding. "Get out of here! Right now! Run!"

"Huh?" Kalluto scrambled to his feet.

Morena raced towards them. Kurapika tugged Gon up, but the boy's eyes slid half-closed. Killua stumbled.

" _Get out of here!"_ Kurapika screamed. "Take Woble and run! Get help!"

"Don't think so," said Tserriednich's voice. He took off after the three kids.

 _Fuck no!_ Kurapika hesitated. He couldn't leave Gon and Killua—but they— _fuck, fuck, not again, not again, I don't want to be helpless again!_

 _Kalluto and Alluka and Woble have to get away. We have to get help._

Kurapika set Gon down and took off after Tserriednich. He grabbed a rock from the ground and hurled it at his head. Tserriednich dodged, but stumbled. Kurapika slammed into him, knocking him down. Tserriednich flipped him over, fingers closing around Kurapika's windpipe. He leered down at him, knees in Kurapika's abdomen. He—stars exploded in front of his vision, disintegrating in glitter that obscured Tserriednich's blasted face, his—

"He could be useful too," called Morena's voice. Her face appeared over Kurapika's. The pressure lessened. He gagged.

Tserriednich hesitated. He removed his fingers, and Kurapika rolled over, gasping in air. It scalded his throat. Drool spilled from his mouth onto the grass.

"One wrong move, Kurta, and I'll kill your friends," crooned Tserriednich, pulling Kurapika's head up by his hair to look into his eyes. His hand moved to grip Kurapika's chin, squeezing so hard it felt his jaw would snap. Beyond Tserriednich, Kurapika spotted Gon and Killua, both passed out. Morena strode towards them. "Some gods you people are."

His eyes must be red. Kurapika glared. But he couldn't do anything. Not when Morena really might hurt Gon and Killua. She heaved Gon up in her arms.

Something else came into view. Kurapika realized Tserriednich held a gun. A fucking gun. And it was pointed directly at him. "Get up, and carry your other friend."

 _Sorry, Leorio_ , Kurapika thought minutes later when Gon and Killiua were unconscious in the backseat of a car and he was locked in the trunk. _I think I'm not making it tonight after all._

 _I've been fucking kidnapped._

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Up next: the Disaster Trio (Chrollo, Illumi, and Hisoka) find out what's happened.**


	10. Harmony

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

"I don't understand," said Chrollo.

"Do you want help or not?" asked Hisoka. "Because breaking into Pariston's—"

Chrollo's phone rang. He checked it. Machi. He could answer it later. The ringtone faded.

Illumi's phone rang next. Illumi frowned. "Machi is calling me."

Something uneasy pricked Chrollo's stomach. "She just called me."

Illumi answered. "Hello?"

It wasn't Machi's voice on the other end. Chrollo could hear someone gasping, ugly messy sobs ripping from their lips. "Ill-Illumi!"

 _Kalluto_. Hisoka sat up straight, alarm spreading over his face.

"What's the matter?" Illumi demanded. "Kalluto, calm down. Breathe. Did something happen?"

Voices. Machi's, and Feitan's. Machi took the phone, her voice echoing through the room. "Illumi, Kalluto and Alluka showed up here with Woble Hui Guo Rou. They said someone attacked them in the park, and Killua and Gon were knocked out, and they don't know what happened to Kurapika."

"What?" Chrollo burst out.

"The fuck?" demanded Hisoka.

" _Danchou?_ You're there? With them? Are the three of you actually having a conversation in the same room or are there body parts on the floor?" Machi demanded. "Whatever you're up to, calm yourselves down, because I can't deal with your dick-measuring contests right now!"

Chrollo's mind swam. He didn't know what to think. How—

His phone buzzed again. He glanced at it. From Kurapika's phone?

 _Call the police, and I'll kill them._

"Fuck," managed Chrollo. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Hisoka grabbed Chrollo's phone and groaned.

Illumi was dead-white. He looked like he wasn't inhabiting his body anymore.

"Hey!" Hisoka grabbed his fiancé and tossed the phone to Chrollo. "Talk to Poodle Girl yourself, asshole. Illumi, snap out of it."

"What is going on?" Machi shouted.

"I just got a text," Chrollo said, swallowing. "From—Kurapika's phone." He read it to her.

"Do we have to call the fucking police?" asked Machi. "I don't give a damn about that bastard, but I do give a damn about Kalluto's brother. And I guess the police can better—unless you know who it is, because then we can go after them."

Chrollo trusted police about as far as he could throw them. They killed his mother in Meteor City, and from what he's seen here in Yorknew, it was no better, just more hidden. Corruption infecting the city from the inside, and it would never be healed. "Machi—wait. We'll be over in three minutes, okay? We're on our way." He scrambled to his feet. "This has to do with Pariston, I know it does."

"Pariston Hill?" Machi said in confusion.

"Tell everyone to come. Meet at your place. Now." Chrollo hung up.

Illumi shook his head. "I'm failing them. Again."

"Fuck that," snapped Hisoka. He yanked Illumi up. "Let's go. If you want to get them back, you know what you have to do and it starts with getting on your goddamn feet."

Illumi met his gaze and nodded. He sent a text. Probably to one of his siblings. "Milluki, get up here right now!"

"Why?" whined Milluki.

"Killua and Gon have been kidnapped. Is that good enough of a reason?" offered Hisoka. His brow pinched as if disgusted someone else would put Gon in a situation where he needed to fight, someone who might actually hurt him.

Milluki blinked. "The hell has that brat gotten himself into now?"

Hisoka drove fast. Chrollo bit his lip, blood leaking out from torn skin. _What the hell is happening?_ And of course he was trapped, because he'd asked Hisoka and Illumi for their help, and they would want his help now. And Kurapika had been helping him, and if Pariston was blackmailing Chrollo... He didn't like this feeling. Shackles.

He texted Machi. _You should contact Oito, and Mito Freecss._

 _Done,_ she replied.

By the time they arrived, everyone else from the paper had already piled into Machi's living room. Machi herself looked pale, Kalluto sobbing into her shoulder. Alluka was screaming in hysteria.

"Hey kid," said Hisoka, poking Alluka in the shoulder. She turned and grabbed him, arms around his waist. Hisoka looked terrified at the hug, but he patted her head as she bawled.

"It's all my fault," wailed Kalluto.

"I was s-supposed to drink the lemonade, but—Killua—" gasped Alluka.

"Stop," said Illumi, reaching for Kalluto. "It's not your fault." He looked at his sister. "Nor is it yours, Alluka."

"You're just saying that because you have to stay calm no matter what! Don't you care?" bellowed Kalluto.

Illumi flinched.

"Why couldn't I go crazy then?" Alluka cried out, stomping her foot. "If there ever was a time, it was then! I could have stopped them!"

"You would have gotten yourself killed," snapped Hisoka. "What a waste."

 _Shit_. Chrollo rubbed his temples. His heart kept pounding. Why—how—what—was Kurapika even alive right now?

 _Fuck_. Pariston was right. He didn't want Kurapika to wind up dead in a ditch somewhere. _He's really been fucking kidnapped. And I... I...  
_

"You're okay," Illumi said. Milluki nodded, taking Kalluto while Illumi grabbed Alluka and hoisted her into his arms like she was much younger than she was.

She buried her face in his shoulder. "I'm _scared_ , Nii-san." Alluka sniffled. Her tears soaked his shirt.

Chrollo remembered his shock at finding out Illumi even had a sister. He'd never mentioned her in college. And then he found out why, and watching how Illumi truly viewed her as an object, as a threat, a ticking time bomb instead of family when he seemed to worship his family in other respects—well.

"I'm scared, too," mumbled Illumi, pressing his head against hers. "We're going to make sure he's okay, okay? I promise." He looked down at Kalluto, and Kalluto reached for him.

 _You really do care about her now. It's not purely acting_. Chrollo was impressed. He thought of Kurapika again, of the night before, of Kurapika's lips on his, of his eyes scarlet and glowing. _How can you change? I don't understand._ These were plot twists he'd never have expected.

"I should have—" Kalluto continued.

"Why?" asked Milluki with a snort. "Bro, you're, like, eleven. You're a kid."

Illumi nodded. "You're a kid. I'm glad you ran, and took Alluka and Woble." His own voice trembled. "I'm proud of you."

 _Whoa_. Panic gripped Chrollo. If Illumi, if Hisoka, if they could change to this extent, like this, then did that mean he'd be wrong? What did it mean if no one held a pen?

 _I hold it!_

 _I don't want it!_

Tears streamed down Kalluto's face.

Hisoka sighed. "You don't have to grow up yet, idiots."

The door flung open again. Oito Hui Guo Rou rushed in. " _Woble!"_ Behind her, Leorio Paladiknight and Melody, that odd friend of Kurapika's, entered.

"Why are you here?" Chrollo eked out.

"Because Oito called me about Kurapika," snapped Leorio. "I'm the closest thing he has to family, me and Killua and Gon, and Melody. He's like my little brother, even if he is an idiot who got Gon and Killua caught up in another—"

"It wasn't him," said Chrollo. Paku's gaze bore into him.

"Pardon?" Leorio blinked.

Oito held her daughter to her chest. "I'm not leaving, either. Not until I find out what's going on." Woble's sobs quieted in her mother's arms, a safe nest. Chrollo felt something hollow inside of him.

"You care about your babysitter a lot," said Phinks.

She glanced at him. "Of course I do. He's a stupidly intelligent young man who thinks he's way more grown up than he is and keeps getting in over his head. That's something I know well. He needs some kind of parental figure."

Phinks looked as if he was in awe of the woman. Chrollo wanted to arch his brows, comment wryly, but he couldn't even do that. Not with other people in the room, like Nobunaga, looking confused as hell. Not when he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this was his fault, because no matter how he tried, some things could never be unwritten.

 _Fuck._

He couldn't change it.

He had to try. He didn't want this. He could do this. His choice, or a pen writing for him, it didn't matter. He could do this. _I'll steal that motherfucking pen._

"Why they contact _you_ , Danchou?" demanded Feitan. "I don't understand. Kurta bastard gets himself and friends in trouble and now we have to—"

"It's not Kurapika's fault," Chrollo said again. Hisoka looked all too satisfied to see Chrollo have to admit this. _Fuck you, Hisoka_.

 _What if I lose them all?_ He didn't understand why he was thinking of that. They all supported each other. Coin flips for disagreements. No fighting allowed. No dissention. No grudges, not with each other. But this... if he couldn't predict people like Illumi or Hisoka, maybe he couldn't predict what Nobunaga would do, what Shalnark would do.

 _I deserve to lose them._ The thought opened a hole in him. "It's my fault," he said, staring straight ahead, meeting no one's eyes. It was okay. He was always on his own. It was all him. The head. The head could bite this time.

"Pardon?" asked Nobunaga.

Chrollo exhaled. Sweat prickled on his forehead. He squared his shoulders. "Pariston Hill threatened me earlier today. He told me to kill the story on him and Ging Freecss or he'd—find another paper to publish a story on Kurapika Kurta."

"So what?" demanded Nobunaga.

"Yeah, we were found not guilty!" burst out Shalnark. "Only _he_ would look bad—"

"Kurapika's been helping me on the Hui Guo Rou situation. Investigate." Chrollo bit his already-raw lip. It stung. He wanted to look at them. He couldn't.

"Does _he_ have something on you, too?" asked Franklin.

"We can clean it up," said Shizuku.

Hisoka put his hands on his hips and tapped his high-heeled foot. Chrollo glanced over. A devilish smile gleamed on Hisoka's face.

 _You smug prick._ "No. Pariston has things on Kurapika," said Chrollo. "He knows—I don't want to see things fall apart—anyone disappear—"

"Oh, just spit it out, or I'll do it for you," cut in Hisoka.

Chrollo wished he could blow Hisoka up. "We're more than friends. I think. Sort of." They hadn't really defined things.

"I don't understand," stated Phinks. Oito's eyes widened, but she almost smiled.

"I mean, he matters to me, okay?" Chrollo burst out. "I've been sleeping with him. Or I slept with him. Yesterday. Shit." _And we've talked. And I don't know what I'm doing._

He hadn't felt like this since he watched his mother die.

Illumi covered Alluka's ears. Kalluto rolled his eyes.

Silence reigned. Chrollo gritted his teeth, tightened his fists. _Why? Why? Why do I care? No life has meaning. Nothing_ _—no_ _—it doesn't matter, it's all bound for decay anyway, it's all bound for_ _—eat and drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die_ _—but_ —

 _His life has meaning, to me._

 _I don't want him to die._

 _I like him._

And he'd done something they couldn't understand. They wouldn't. Chrollo slammed his fist into the wall. Kalluto yelped. He couldn't make sense of this. None of it made sense. None of Kurapika ever made sense. Or, he did, but his core, that justice—Chrollo didn't understand that.

"Danchou!" shouted Franklin.

"I don't understand," Feitan said again. " _Why?"_

"Why are you and Machi fucking?" asked Pakunoda.

"What?" Phinks barked.

"Shut up!" Machi snarled.

Machi and Feitan? Chrollo lifted his gaze. Nobunaga wouldn't look at him. Shalnark and Kortopi both looked stunned.

"Mention that again, and I kill you," Feitan told Pakunoda.

"Is he nice?" asked Shalnark. "When he's not trying to kill—"

"He killed Uvo!" shouted Nobunaga.

"I killed his family," said Chrollo dully. _Pairo_. Something felt sticky, coating his insides with rancid slime. He was—this feeling— "I'm sorry." _I don't know how to fix this._

"If he is willing to overlook things," said Pakunoda. "Then I am too. We still need you, Danchou."

 _Stop it!_ "You don't." Chrollo swallowed. "None of you need to help. I'm—"

"Don't care," grunted Feitan. "We help. Even if I want to stab him afterwards."

 _You want me. Why?_

"Not allowed," said Machi. "I threatened him earlier. Unfortunately I think he was being sincere when he said he didn't have ulterior motives."

"How did _you_ know?" Chrollo turned to Pakunoda. "Someone told Pariston." His chest felt cold. Paku wouldn't. But if she did, she'd have a reason, right? Right?

"It was not me," said Illumi.

"You didn't even tell _me_ ," mumbled Hisoka.

Paku brushed her hair back. "I told Machi, but I also—"

"I didn't tell anyone else," said Machi, heaving a sigh. "Honest. But I did threaten him in an alley—maybe someone overheard?"

"Why did you threaten him?" Chrollo demanded. He had no right to ask. But again, he needled, because he wanted to know. He wanted to hope.

"Why not?" Machi threw her hands in the air.

 _You and Paku both_ _—you wanted to protect me._ Chrollo rubbed his eyes. Now his heart was slamming against his ribcage. He felt like he was going to be sick.

 _I matter to you?_

 _I shouldn't. I've never wanted to. Just_ _—we matter. Our group. Our legacy._

 _But I matter to you?_

 _No. How?_

He could protect himself. But all their eyes, all eleven pairs, plus the others in the room, were fixated on him. Even Nobunaga.

 _I need to take responsibility for this_. For them. _For you all_. And for Kurapika too. For all his orbiting around existing, Chrollo Lucilfer did, in fact, exist, and live in this world. He was always part of it.

Everything had happened to him. His mother died. He went nights without eating. He ran the streets, he slept in trash, he stole, he moved to Yorkshin, he grew in popularity, he got a stupid tattoo on his head when he was drunk and sixteen and he was still proud of it, he robbed the Kurtas and didn't even remember them or realize they'd died until Kurapika showed up last year, he lost Uvogin and the entire time he knew it was because of his own actions, and he'd made love to Kurapika because he wanted to, and because he felt, for the first time, something comforting and freeing, something like the homes he'd seen from the streets—no, not from the streets, the ones he'd read about in storybooks, because in real life homes were filled with slaps and accusations. Most of them.

But this wasn't the first time he felt that.

 _This is home too. All of you._

Something burned his eyes. A teardrop rolled down his cheek, splattering against his shoe. "I don't want to let them hurt him. Or Killua, or Gon." Kurapika would never forgive himself, and Chrollo couldn't let that happen. The pen felt heavy. He wanted to see where this would go. He didn't want to close this chapter, not like this. He needed the outcome he wanted. "I can't let Pariston hurt him."

"Um," said Alluka. "It wasn't Pariston who took him."

"I presume he hired someone," said Illumi.

"It was a woman and a man," said Kalluto. "The woman had two scars on her face. She gave Killua and Gon lemonade that made them sick. Poison or—"

Not poison. _Drugs_. Chrollo met Machi's gaze, Phinks's, Feitan's. He looked at Hisoka, who looked furious. _Christ, it really is my fault_. "Who wants to explain about Morena Prudo?"

"Who?" asked Oito.

"That's a good idea," said a new voice. "Thanks for texting me, Illumi."

Chrollo's eyes widened. It wasn't the police. Not quite.

Biscuit Krueger, that child protection officer, stood there, arms crossed and looking far more intimidating than any gang boss he'd ever faced off with.

* * *

"One wrong move and Tserriednich will shoot them," Morena hissed, dragging Kurapika out into what looked like a garage.

He wanted to kick her. He could take her, he was certain. But with Gon and Killua both still unconscious, he couldn't risk it. He wouldn't lose another friend. So he let them drag him along, lock him in a trunk, now shove him through this strange house. Paralyzed, again.

At least Alluka and Kalluto had gotten away with Woble. He at least won't have them on his conscience. But Oito—

 _I failed you._

 _I failed again. All I do is fail the people I love most._

Morena pushed him into what looked like a small room, or closet, under a staircase. The ceiling sloped downwards, and dust bunnies scattered across the cement floor. Tserriednich dumped Killua and Gon down. Morena tossed them some water bottles. And then the door shut, and Kurapika heard the locks sliding.

 _Fuck!_

Gon let out a moan. Kurapika swore and scrambled over to him. He grabbed a water bottle, examining it. The seal was unbroken. Safe, probably, not drugged.

 _I don't want you hurt_. Kurapika wiped at his eyes. They were his friends. His precious friends. They were there for him all along, and he—he thought that if he could handle everything on his own, then it would only affect him.

That wasn't how it'd worked. Not ever, and he still didn't learn.

Killua groaned, rolling over. He gagged. Kurapika grabbed his shoulders, holding him up. He didn't vomit, though. He turned to Kurapika, eyes wide. "Where are we?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

Gon stirred. His eyes focused on Kurapika, blinking. "What the—"

"We've been kidnapped," Killua said matter-of-fact. "By whom?"

Kurapika swallowed. This time, hot tears splashed down his face. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Killua mumbled. He leaned back against a cracked wall. "Illumi will be so mad."

"I don't see what's going on!" Gon cried out. "I don't—"

"It's my fault," Kurapika cut in. "They must have been after me—working together all along." He was a fool to let down his guard around Tserriednich. Morena must have told him about the club. The man was a good actor.

"Explain," snapped Killua. "Because I don't understand, and I have a headache, and I'm getting awfully tired of this."

Kurapika winced. He explained from the beginning, about the rubies, the club—he left out exactly how Chrollo had helped him hide his face—and the ties Morena and Tserriednich had.

"I don't understand why they'd take us, though," Gon managed.

"Maybe they think we're worth money," said Killua. "Considering who out parents are. I would laugh if our parents manage to fuck us over one more time."

Gon pulled his knees up to his chest. He rocked back and forth.

"I'm sorry," Kurapika eked out again. Leorio's words from earlier echoed. _You say that a lot. Prove it._

Well, now he couldn't. Now, his time had run out.

 _Just when I might have—no! It can't be out!_ He needed another chance, more time, something.

"Why didn't you tell us what was going on?" Killua demanded.

"Because you're kids."

"But we—"

"You're kids!" Kurapika shouted. "I'm not—"

"We're your friends!" yelled Gon. His face screwed up in rage.

Kurapika wilted. "But—I—I didn't want—another kid to die—another person I cared about, whom I want to protect—to die because of me."

"What happened to your parents?" questioned Killua.

"And Pairo." Kurapika stared down at the rings on his hands, and then he could only cry. I _ruined your life. I wanted to save it, and I ruined it. If I had been there_ _—if I had been there_ —maybe nothing would be different. Maybe everything would be. He couldn't know. Tears choked him. Snot streamed down his face. He couldn't catch his breath.

"Kurapika," said Killua, and then he felt Killua leaning up against one of his sides, and Gon on the other side.

"Who is Pairo?" asked Gon, face sympathetic.

And the story came out. Kurapika couldn't keep it in. About how he saved Kurapika from that cliff. About how he believed in Kurapika. "He told me to study hard at the library, and when I said it was—so that I could—pay for the best treatments—he told me—"

" _You're smart though!" Pairo crowed. "You should enjoy learning, because you can!"_

Kurapika wiped at his eyes. He thought of Oito and how he'd let her down. "I just—wanted to save someone so that—I could—I could prove—" _I deserved to be alive._

"All we want," said Killua. "Is for you to save yourself."

"And us, currently," Gon groused. "Well, we can all do it."

Kurapika managed a smile.

"I don't think Pairo sounds like the kind of person who would blame you," said Killua. "Just my two cents. Like right now, I don't really blame you. Not too much."

"I don't at all," Gon said, gaping at Killua.

"Of course Pairo didn't," Kurapika burst out. "That wasn't the kind of person he was—the kind of friend—"

 _But I thought I had to earn it. Earn that friendship. Earn it._

 _Why?_

 _Don't I have any worth?_

 _Why are you all gone?_

Maybe it never had to do with him. Maybe it was about them, his parents own demons, and maybe Pairo was—just a victim. And his friend, and a good person, and the person he wanted to be when he grew up.

 _I never had to fix you. You were perfect._ Well, he wasn't, but he was the perfect friend for Kurapika. _You were never the blind one, Pairo. I was_.

He looked at Gon and Killua, both looking at him with earnestness on their faces, and he saw Pairo. And he thought of their family situations. _How are you so okay?_

 _Teach me_.

 _We've all lost_. And it hurt. All of them hurt. He could see it in their eyes.

 _I don't want this to be my life anymore. I want_ _—I want_ _—to be found._

"You are," Kurapika choked out. "Two of the best friends I've ever had."


	11. Crescendo

**Chapter a day early for Mei-chan.**

* * *

"We do actually have ways of handling things, you know, to ensure safety," Biscuit said, putting her hands on her hips. "Although I don't blame you for not trusting the police. But do you trust _me?"_

"I don't know you," Chrollo pointed out. He felt hot, and cold, both sensations rolling through him at once and nauseating him. _Illumi, what did you fucking do? You called her?  
_

"Fine," said Biscuit. "Fair. Illumi, do you trust me?"

Illumi swallowed. "I... suppose I do."

"Good. I will contact the law enforcement I actually know personally, whom I trust, and get them to work on this. No one needs to go to a station, for now." Biscuit pointed at Chrollo. "I hear you have an idea of what might have happened."

Oito reached into her pocket, pilling out her phone. "Here are photos of our family." She held it out to Alluka and Kalluto. "Do you recognize anyone?"

"That's the man," said Kalluto, pointing at Tserriednich.

Chrollo gritted his teeth. He did not trust that man near Kurapika or the kids.

"Speak," Biscuit told Chrollo, pulling out her phone to record. "Or else I _will_ haul your ass down to the police station. My not doing that counts on you cooperating."

"What do you want me to say?" Chrollo demanded. He didn't like this feeling, not at all. He was used to secrets, buried in mounds of trash. He was used to protection, being untouchable because his circle was always moving around him, always moving for him, and he didn't even have to be alive to know that they would carry out his purpose. He existed in all of them, and now he was being plucked out, dangled in the air by this fucking spoiled brat Tserriednich.

Alone. He felt alone. He never felt alone. Not since... not since... _Fuck you! Fuck this!_ What did it matter what he said? Kurapika was... a part of him, a part he did not want to die because no one else would carry out that kind of attitude, that faith in justice he'd never had but a part of him craved. And he had no idea what to do, but his friends wanted to help. They would take Kurapika back. _Fuck you, Tserriednich. Fuck all of you who are involved. I'll make you suffer._ "I have information on money exchange between Pariston Hill and Ging Freecss, likely with the goal of advancing Pariston's chances of getting on the city council. He threatened to expose Kurapika's… history unless I cut the story."

"And why would he threaten Kurapika to threaten you?" Biscuit asked. But she knew. He could tell.

Chrollo picked at a loose thread on his pants. "Because we've been—working together on the Hui Guo Rou case, and because we've been sleeping together." He studied his shoes. His face felt heavy. _I want him._

 _I don't want him to destroy himself. I don't want him to die. I..._ "Because I... care about him."

Hisoka let out a whistle. Machi smacked him. He raised his hand jokingly.

"You can't hit pregnant woman," snapped Feitan, jumping in front of Machi.

"It was a joke! She'd kill me anyways—wait, the fuck?"

"Congratulations," said Biscuit.

"The— _what?"_ bellowed Nobunaga.

Hisoka gaped at Machi. Pakunoda smiled.

 _"Machi?"_ Chrollo managed. Machi was—what? Really? With Feitan?

Machi put her hands on her hips. "I can still kick your ass, clown." Her eyes found Chrollo's as if looking for approval. He recognized that look. He saw it on Kalluto's face, with Illumi, with himself and Machi and Feitan, he saw it on Alluka's with Illumi.

"Congratulations," said Chrollo.

Phinks slumped against a wall. Oito yelped, grabbing him and holding him up with her spare arm.

"Did he just faint?" asked Shalnark, frowning.

Kortopi laughed.

"I can give you advice," Oito offered Machi. "If you have morning sickness or—also Woble has lots of clothes she's outgrown; they're still in great shape—"

 _Not everyone seeking a powerful place in life is the same_. Chrollo closed his eyes, remembering what Oito's history.

Life. His group was creating life, and it was separate from him. And it was life. He stared at his hands, flexing them. It was a strange feeling. Machi's face was still flushed, but she looked—happy. Feitan stood next to her, looking ready to lop off the heads of anyone who said a wrong word. Did that mean that he was—or was it nothing to do with him?

He knew it was the latter. They were branching out, and still. _I'm so happy for you both._ He remembered finding Feitan in the streets. Feitan was just a chubby-cheeked kid then, beating another one for food. He broke the kid's arm when he had already given Feitan food. But Chrollo understood. There was something about asserting power when everyone refused to give it to you.

Kalluto hugged Machi. Alluka clapped her hands. Shizuku and Bolonenov were both smiling. Franklin was suggesting names. Feitan looked repulsed at all of the suggestions.

Biscuit made several phone calls. "Machi, can we use this house as a safe house? I don't believe anyone will be watching this place. Chrollo's is too risky."

"Fine," said Machi. "Do I get paid though?"

"Unfortunately not," said Biscuit as she stuffed her phone back in her pocket. "Also, I have to send law enforcement to the residences of both Ging Freecss and Silva and Kikyo Zoldyck."

"You're telling them?" Illumi interrupted. He looked pale. That same look. Still desperate for approval, even though it wouldn't be granted, terrified of disapproval.

"I have to. It's possible Tserriednich and Morena Prudo will contact them. Additionally, Pariston Hill has been arrested," said Biscuit. "Chrollo, Illumi, Hisoka. Come with me. Is there a private room we can use, Machi?"

Machi nodded, leading them to her bedroom. Biscuit pulled a laptop out of her lacy bag. All three of them stood while Biscuit sat on the bed. Chrollo didn't know what to say. He didn't know what was happening. She had his phone, but he hadn't received any more texts.

Her phone rang. Biscuit turned it on and gestured for them to remain silent.

"What a drag," came the voice of Pariston Hill.

"Weren't expecting to wind up caught?" demanded another voice. A cop, Chrollo knew. Which one? Oh, right. Beyond Netero.

"Not really," said Pariston.

"We have a situation."

"I heard that idiot got kidnapped." Pariston yawned. "But I don't have anything to do with that."

"But you might know who did. Blackmail—"

"So what?" asked Pariston. He laughed. "Man, I knew hypocrisy was rampant, but I didn't even know how rampant. I'm amazed. Do you know what it takes to amaze me? B literally what keeps Lucilfer afloat. He blackmails and when he doesn't feel like being paid off according to whatever his principles are—maybe he just didn't need a new ruby ring or whatever—he ruins people. He just got all 'woe is me' when that stupid clown finally did the same thing to him."

 _"Stupid?_ " hissed Hisoka. Illumi elbowed him.

Chrollo's heart pounded. He remembered Pariston's words from earlier, where he called it "hate sex." _What if you did sleep with me just to hate yourself more, Kurapika? Is that the role I play in your story? Is that how you plan to use me, as an instrument to hurt you?_

 _I don't want that. I don't want to be used. I don't want to hurt you!_

"I imagine he's running around trying to figure out how to get his friends to save his lover without actually revealing he's his lover." Pariston sighed. "Oh, that would be nice to see. I wonder how he will like feeling exposed."

 _Fuck you_. Chrollo could barely contain himself. He wanted to punch through the phone and send Pariston into a coma from which he would never emerge. Everything felt like it was shaking.

But even if the part about hate sex was true...

"How were you aware of Mr. Lucilfer's relationship?"

"Simple," said Pariston. A chair creaked. "Morena Prudo put a bug on Kurapika Kurta's phone in the club when they visited. She teamed up with her half-brother to take down Nasubi and get his fortune, or whatever. That's what she said but of course, who knows?"

 _A bug_ _—what did they listen to?_ Chrollo wanted to scream. He felt sick. More than exposed, he felt—felt violated. Their conversation in the graveyard? No, Kurapika hadn't had his phone then. The jokes about Indoor Fish? Last night? _Those aren't yours, those aren't yours, those aren't yours! They're mine! They're ours! Mine! Mine! Mine!  
_

"That boy was funny," said Pariston. "Always pushing people away, and yet his friends didn't give up on him. It was almost charming to see. Very sweet."

Chrollo wasn't certain what he meant, but probably Leorio was good to Kurapika. Those were Kurapika's moments, though. Not Pariston's. _Kurapika..._

"Can't imagine what Lucilfer's little cult will think of him when they find out," Pariston continued. "Considering Kurapika's way too independent to ever be a part of them."

 _I don't even want him to be a part of us!_ Just a collaborator. A friend. A lover.

 _You're not mine. You've never been mine._ Chrollo sank back against the wall.

 _And that's why I like you._

 _Who has a god complex now?_ Kurapika's voice echoed from the graveyard.

 _I want_ — _I want—something better than this life. I always have._

"See, I know who Chrollo Lucilfer is," said Pariston. "A pathetic, greedy man who just wants power so he gobbles it all up. It's fun to watch him squirm now."

 _That's who I am?_

He thought of the stench of trash. And he heard a laugh echo from down the stairs. Franklin's. He thought of Machi, Feitan, Pakunoda, Shalnark, Uvogin.

 _I don't want to be just that. I'm not._

 _I am._

 _Who has a god complex now?_

He knew. Kurapika knew, and still, he kissed Chrollo, spending his first real kiss on him. He slept with him when Chrollo asked him to stay. Kurapika knew, and still, he stayed. His friends knew he'd been banging someone who put them in prison and they were still downstairs. They stayed. They chose.

"Anyways," said Pariston. "My guess is they were aiming for Woble anyways but not everyone passed out from whatever Morena tried to feed them and that's how you got yourself three people kidnapped and a free baby." He laughed. "Man, they're the worst at this, aren't they?"

If all of this was true... if Kurapika was just using him...

 _I don't care._ He didn't have to get anything from this, from Kurapika. _I still don't want this for you. You don't have to suffer like this. I don't care._

"How do you know?" Beyond Netero asked.

"Simple. Morena offered me that helpful information, along with the fact that he was going to write a story on me, in exchange for money." Pariston snorted. "Will cooperating get me off? Because let me tell you, the city is fucked if it comes out the middle school principal has been arrested for this. Good luck dealing with that scandal."

Biscuit turned off the phone. She looked at Chrollo. He couldn't speak. _I—I—_

"If they weren't aiming for Killua, or Gon or Kurapika, does that mean they plan to kill them?" burst out Illumi.

"I doubt it." Biscuit rolled her eyes. "Morena's intelligent. I—"

Illumi was shaking. His breaths came fast. Hisoka grabbed him. "Why did you ask me and Illumi to come up here?"

"Because Chrollo might remember something from what he said, and Illumi too, and you, Hisoka—well, if I told you to stay downstairs you would have just pressed your ear against the door," Biscuit snapped.

"Touché," said Hisoka. He looked at Chrollo.

 _I don't want power. I don't. Not now. I just want_ —

 _Don't die, Kurapika._

* * *

The door to the closet opened. Kurapika started. Gon yelped.

The woman held a gun. Morena. She tossed containers of fast food at them.

"What are you doing with us?" shouted Kurapika. "I—they're just kids, if you want to blackmail Oito, I'm much more—she's never even met—"

Morena tilted her head. "That isn't what I want at all."

Kurapika shook his head. "Then—why—"

"I can blackmail Chrollo Lucilfer for you," said Morena. "And Ging Freecss. And Illumi Zoldyck. It's helpful, even if it wasn't what I planned. Life seldom gives you what you planned, so you have to learn to roll with what you have to get what you want." She tapped the gun against her palm.

Kurapika positioned himself in front of Gon and Killua. No way. "And what do you want?" If he could get through to one of them, it would be her. Not Tserriednich. He did not trust Tserriednich around any of them.

"You're an interesting one," Morena said, facing him. Her scarred face broke into a smile. "Don't you know what it's like to hate someone who took everything from you? To be willing to do whatever it takes to force them to feel a _fraction_ of the agony you've been living in?"

Kurapika couldn't respond. He glanced at Killua.

"Obviously," said Killua.

"My mother killed herself," said Morena. "After Nasubi used her and then dumped her, but not before cutting my face up at two years old when she dared to ask for child support. He told her if she ever told anyone that I was his child, he would do worse to me next time. I was an object to him, blackmail on her, and every time she looked at my face she thought of her failure. She never forgave herself." Morena curled her fist. Her voice trembled. "I saw her grimace each time. Even when I smiled, she was always thinking I would be laughing more freely if he hadn't—if she hadn't—if I didn't exist, things would have been better. She never forgave herself, and I knew it. I might as well have tied to the cord that she used to hang herself. I came home from school and found her body. I was seven."

"That's awful!" burst out Gon. "It wasn't her fault—it was Nasubi's!"

Sweat dripped down Kurapika's back.

"So what?" Morena laughed. A hollow sound that echoed and echoed, and it was a sound that echoed in Kurapika's dreams these past six years.

"It wasn't your fault," Kurapika managed. _Please. Please. Believe me._

"I know."

No, she didn't. Kurapika felt like vomiting. "Tserriednich doesn't care about that."

"Ah, I knew you were smart." Morena tapped the barrel of the gun against her chin. Killua looked away. "No, he doesn't. He just wants his father's money. That's how dicks are."

"So you're willing to risk another child's wellbeing?" yelled Gon. "Woble is—"

"They're kids too," Kurapika insisted. "Gon and Killua—"

"Why are you working with Tserriednich if you—" Killua started.

"We all work alone," said Morena. "Me, and Tserriednich. To get what we want. But I'll get what I want. I don't lose. And you seem to think I care about what is right and what is wrong. I don't. The world doesn't care about children, and it never will. As long as I take everything from my father, I don't care who else I hurt. I can't afford to. If you do that, you'll never get anything. Did _you_ care, Kurapika?"

He opened and closed his mouth. "I... care." _Now_.

Her lips curved. Her fingers traced her scars. "You should never underestimate despair. But fear not. I'll be calling Chrollo, Illumi, and Ging shortly with demands." She fumbled to take out a phone. "Say cheese." She snapped a photo.

The door slammed shut, and Kurapika heard a gun cock.

 _Despair. You—no!_

"Hold on!" Kurapika launched himself at the door. He pounded. "Stop! Morena!" Terror welled up inside of him. "Don't do this! You can still—you can—" _I want to believe I can, so you can! Please! "STOP!"_

"What're they yellin' about?" groused Tserriednich's voice. Gon's mouth hung open, Killua clamped his hands over Gon's ears, doubling over.

"No!" Kurapika bellowed. " _Morena!"_

A gunshot echoed. Gon screamed. A second.

Kurapika shook all over. _This was_ _—this was what I wanted for Chrollo?_

 _How could I?_

"Fuck," whispered Killua. "She's batshit."

 _She's giving up._ Kurapika couldn't fathom what that might mean for himself, for Gon, for Killua. _I can't let them die. And I don't want to die!_ He wanted to see Chrollo again, apologize again. Although—his face the night before—he had moved on, hadn't he? Chrollo didn't hold it against Kurapika.

 _I just want to see you again._

But when it came down to it… he had to try. Kurapika turned to his friends.

"I thought my parents were evil," said Killua. "She just—shot her own brother."

Gon cried into Killua's shoulder. Kurapika dropped to his knees in front of them. He wrapped his arms around both of them. "I won't let her hurt you."

 _She's evil. She's not. She's me._

 _I'm evil. I'm not. I'm me._

"We'll be okay," Gon whispered. "Illumi and Hisoka will come for us, even if my dad doesn't."

"And Chrollo," Kurapika said. He hoped. His heart pounded. For their sake? Even if not for his. Chrollo surely would— _please_. "I—almost did to him what—"

"You're different," snapped Gon.

"No," said Kurapika. He shook his head. "No, I'm not, and I—Gon, Killua, Chrollo and I have been—seeing each other. Like dating." Sort of. He wasn't going to say to tell fourteen year olds they'd had sex.

Gon gaped. Killua wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"If something happens to me," said Kurapika in a low voice. "I want you to tell him _thank you_ for me, okay? He'll know what for."

"You don't get to commit suicide to save us!" Killua snarled.

"I don't want to die," said Kurapika, shaking. "But this is a mess I made."

"Listen to yourself!" Killua grabbed his face. "You don't have to do everything alone! Let us—come up with a plan. You can do the most risky part, if you want to, but let us help you plan."

Kurapika's throat closed up. But they were kids. Still— "Okay. Let's try."

* * *

Chrollo's phone rang. He looked to Biscuit, who nodded. "Hello?"

Illumi paced in the background.

"Chrollo. Is Illumi Zoldyck with you?"

"He is," said Chrollo, meeting Illumi's eyes. "You didn't think I would do nothing, did you?"

"Hardly," Morena Prudo's voice came smooth, calm. "I'll text him a photo to prove their safety. Let me know when you have it."

Illumi held up his phone a few seconds later. All three of them, crouched on the ground, Kurapika glaring at the camera.

"Got it," said Chrollo.

"I want your information," said Morena. "All your files. I don't care about Zoldyck's money. I want all your files."

"Since when?" Chrollo demanded.

"Since always. Give me your laptop. You're not the only one who deals in information." Morena cleared her throat. "Or, if you're too worried that my leaking it will land you in a cell of your own, along with the rest of your crew, then I can put a bullet into Kurapika's brain as we speak. I'll even let you listen in."

The image hit Chrollo in the abdomen. Biscuit nodded at him. "Fine."

"I'll text you a location, and a time. If you come with anyone else, or if you're late even by two minutes, I will kill all three of them. Don't think I won't. I have no qualms about collateral damage. I just killed Tserriednich."

"I'm sorry, what?" Chrollo burst out.

Illumi clamped a hand over Hisoka's mouth as horror widened his golden eyes. Biscuit looked pale.

"In front of them?" Chrollo demanded. He could only imagine how Kurapika would be blaming himself for this.

"The door was shut." Morena let out a laugh. "Be there, Lucilfer." She hung up.

"Motherfucker," Hisoka managed. Illumi gripped his hair, cussing rapidly under his breath.

Chrollo's phone lit up with another text. He shoved it at Biscuit.

Tserriednich's dead body, crumpled unceremoniously in a pool of blood, his face shattered. Chrollo'd seen so many bodies like that in Meteor City. He knew everyone died. But he did not want that to happen to Kurapika. Or Killua, or Gon.

"Jesus," whispered Hisoka. "What if she gets away? What if she does get the information?"

"We hope that won't happen," said Biscuit. "But our priority is the rescue of the hostages." She looked to Chrollo. "We can fit you up with a wire."

Chrollo nodded. He had to do this. Even if he didn't make it. His life was insignificant. A vapor in the wind. But they still stood. They still collected whispers. No matter what happened to him. And no matter what happened to him, Kurapika was someone who needed live on, a mystery he never solved, and he had to do whatever he could to ensure that he made it. "If she does get away, and if I don't… I want immunity. For my friends."

Biscuit narrowed her eyes. "And if I don't get it for you, you won't help?"

"No," said Chrollo. "I will. Still. But I'm letting you know. I'm going to trust you. Don't blow this."

Biscuit nodded.

"I did it, you know," Chrollo added, wanting to throw up. "All of what she says, what Pariston—blackmail, stealing, illegal ways to get information."

Biscuit shrugged. "Good thing I'm not exactly a cop. Watch your tongue, though. I'll do what I can."

 _Huh?_ He blinked.

Morena texted Chrollo a location. A deserted airport outside of Yorknew. Chrollo inhaled.

"You're really doing this, Danchou?" demanded Shalnark.

He nodded. _I won't fail. Not any of you._

Biscuit ordered everyone else to be transferred to the station to await news. Chrollo met up with the team preparing to stop Morena. The families of Killua, and Gon, and Kurapika's friends since Leorio and Melody might as well be family.

"I'm counting on you," Leorio told him, clamping his hand on Chrollo's shoulder. His eyes narrowed.

"We'll go too," said Feitan. "To station. We'll wait for you there."

Chrollo's throat closed up. Biscuit took Chrollo there too, to fit him up with a wire.

 _Fuck._ He spotted Ging Freecss inside, laughing as if he didn't care. And Silva and Kikyo with him. Illumi drew up, trying to stand in front of his siblings, but he still looked like a child compared to Silva, who launched himself at them. Kalluto ducked behind Hisoka. Milluki glared at his parents. "Go away."

"You think this is responsible—I always knew you were a—"

" _Shut the fuck up!"_

Chrollo's eyes widened. Alluka jumped in front of Illumi, throwing her arms out as if to emphasize the fact that she did not want to listen to her parents criticize her brother. "Leave him alone!"

Illumi looked truly shocked. He gaped at Alluka, blinking. Hisoka stepped in front of her then, looking up at Silva. "Call her a _thing_ , and I'll blind you. I would love the opportunity to break your face."

"Settle down," barked Officer Hanzo. Kalluto bit back a smile.

 _That's a family?_ thought Chrollo.

 _That's a family._

"Let's go," said Biscuit.

 _Please,_ Chrollo thought as they drove. He never thought there was a point in prayer, because any god up there wouldn't listen. But if there was a chance, and Kurapika made him believe there might be, he had to take it. _Please let them be okay._


	12. Cadence

**_We know, we grow, we fall, we crawl, to change, proclaim, for this, we miss, to breathe, deceive, from fate to fate, exist, insist, we push, we lust_**

 ** _~Timecop1983, "Lovers"_**

* * *

"This is it," Kurapika hissed when Morena came for them. Gon and Killua nodded.

She pointed a gun at Killua's head. "One wrong move and I'll kill him." She tossed the keys at Kurapika. "You're driving. Let's go."

 _You're just like me._ Kurapika climbed into the car. His hands shook. He didn't know how to drive, not well anyways. He'd always been afraid to drive, ever since the accident.

"Try to drive anywhere I don't want, speed, make a wrong turn, and I will put a bullet in both of your friends' brains and then in yours," Morena said, sliding into the backseat. Gon sat up in the passenger seat, Killua next to Morena looking as if he would like to tear her heart out of her chest with his bare hands. "Don't test me."

She had one weakness, and compassion wasn't it. Kurapika gritted his teeth. He turned the keys in the ignition and let out his breath. "You don't have to do this."

"Does that matter? I am doing it. Shut up." Morena cocked the gun. Killua glared at her as Gon covered his mouth.

Kurapika pressed his lips together. He drove, following her directions. The night sky glittered with stars, all watching. He hoped they would bring them luck. When she told him to pull into a deserted airport, Kurapika's heart dropped to his shoes. _You're going to_ —

"Now get out," Morena said. "One at a time."

Kurapika obeyed, and then Gon. His eyes caught Killua's in the rearview mirror. Killua didn't have to nod. He understood.

" _You can't!" Killua protested, huddled in that dank closet._

 _"Trust me," Kurapika pleaded. "I know—you don't have much of a reason to, but trust me."_

"I don't feel well," Killua gasped as he got out of the car.

"I don't care." Morena gestured for them to head into a hanger.

The night air breathed down Kurapika's neck with the wind, humid and warm. "He did take those drugs of yours," Kurapika snapped. "As I recall, they don't exactly make you feel great when—"

"It was a low dose—"

Killua doubled over. Vomit poured onto the pavement.

"Killua!" Gon cried, rushing over to hold his friend up. Morena hesitated.

Kurapika jumped in front of her. His foot flew out. It hit her in the arm.

The gun went off, bullet slicing into the car. Kurapika ducked a swung from her fist. Gon and Killua took off. Kurapika leapt. She was stronger than he was, that he didn't doubt, and—her hand regained control. The barrel pressed against Kurapika's forehead.

It was searing. The metal burned into Kurapika's skin. He cringed. _I wasn't wrong, I couldn't have been_ — _please_ — _I really don't want to die, not now._

 _Aren't you always wrong?_

 _Not about this!_

"You fucking—I'm going to kill—" Her eyes flitted about, wild. Killua and Gon were nowhere to be seen, lost in the maze of buildings.

"No," wheezed Kurapika. "You're not. Because I'm the one you need, right? For Chrollo? You do care. You want to take down Nasubi and to do that you need his files—and you need me. You don't want to wait anymore, do you? You're tired of waiting." Tears streamed down his face. _Me, too. Me, too. I can't wait another second._

 _I want to live._

Morena raised the gun, and brought it down against Kurapika's face. He slammed into the pavement. Blood poured down his face, hot and gushing. She grabbed his arm, yanking him back up. "Walk."

And he obeyed.

* * *

The sound of a gunshot didn't even disturb Chrollo. What disturbed him was the thought of the implications. _Kurapika, if you get yourself or any of those kids killed, I will kill you._

"Chrollo?" Biscuit's voice echoed in his ear.

"I'm fine," he mumbled. "What was that?"

"We have no idea."

Chrollo clutched his laptop case to his chest. He was standing in the hanger where Morena had texted him to meet her. His shoes echoed against the tiles, though they were cracked and dull. He tugged at his coat. _Where are they?_

They tried to give him some random laptop from the police station, but Chrollo refused, pointing out that Morena probably knew what stickers he had on his. Ones of classical art. He would miss those stickers, unless they managed to recover it.

"Chrollo?" Biscuit sounded anxious. "Chrollo, Killua and Gon are—they just ran over to Officer Hanzo—they claim to have escaped—"

"What about Kurapika?" Chrollo's heart pounded. He didn't want him to die.

And not for Chrollo's own sake. For Kurapika's. He didn't—deserve that. And any god who wanted to write that he did would have to take it up with Chrollo. It might be pointless to try, but Chrollo still had to.

"We don't know, but we have—"

Chrollo froze. Footsteps clomped in the distance. Two pairs of them.

"Are you there?"

"They're coming," he hissed, turning. There were no windows in this corridor. A dingy light flickered. Chrollo took a step forward.

"Dammit!" said Biscuit. "Those kids just—"

Chrollo couldn't handle her yelling in his ear right now. He yanked the earpiece out and stomped on it. They could still hear him thanks to the wire, but now he wouldn't have to listen to their stupid chatter.

Morena rounded the corner. She held a gun pointed at Kurapika's temple. Chrollo gripped the laptop case. _Fuck, just let him go_. Blood stained Kurapika's shirt and ran from his nose. His gaze met Chrollo's, and his brow pinched as if to ask: _you really came?_

 _I'm here._

"How do we do this?" Chrollo asked. _You hurt him._

"Walk to the middle of the hallway and put it on the ground. Then go back to where you are now."

Chrollo acquiesced. Kurapika swallowed. More blood dripped from his nose. Chrollo knelt and put the case down, and then moonwalked back.

Morena jabbed the gun into Kurapika's neck. "Let's go." Kurapika stumbled, but walked towards the case. "Open it."

Kurapika knelt and took it out, the gun pressed into the top of his skull now. Chrollo could see his arms shaking.

"Hand it to me. Slowly."

Kurapika held it up. Morena took it with her free hand, ticking it under her arm. She backed up. "Get out of here. Go."

Kurapika got to his feet. He turned to face her.

"Quickly, before I change my mind," said Morena. She sniffed.

Kurapika turned and raced down the corridor, feet striking the tiles, towards Chrollo. _Come on_ — _come on_ — _you_ —Chrollo reached out, grabbing his shoulders. "Did they hurt you?"

Kurapika gestured to his face. "Just this. You—came—I—"

 _You're okay. You're alive_. Chrollo wrapped his arms around him, hauling him around the corner. Gasps broke through his lips. His chest shook. He tightened his grip. _You're_ —

Footsteps pounded. A gunshot cracked the air. Chrollo yanked Kurapika's head down on instinct. He'd dodged more than enough—

Another shot ripped through the airport, but it wasn't coming towards them. A scream.

" _Gon!"_ Kurapika broke out of Chrollo's grasp.

"Kurapika!" But he was gone. Chrollo couldn't grab him in time. _Of course, of course_. _I can't_ — _you are—_

Chrollo hurtled after him. Kurapika charged around the corner. Chrollo spotted Gon ducking behind a backless wire bench. Kurapika threw himself in front of Gon. And Killua Zoldyck swerved to the side, but Morena's gun was aimed, aimed directly at the silver-haired boy, and no matter how fast, how smart, how agile he was, no one could outrun a bullet.

 _Duck, you fool!_

The bullet narrowly missed, but the second—Chrollo grabbed the kid, throwing him to the ground. Something scalded his thigh. _Did it hit me?_

Shouts echoed around him, a cacophonous din. Chrollo turned. Another shot. Morena went down, but still flailed. Armed officers flooded.

He felt bathed in warmth. Chrollo looked down. _Oh._

 _Shit._

That was a problem.

His thigh was gushing blood. Not just gushing. Pulsating.

"Fuck!" screamed Killua. The brat didn't appear to be hurt. Hooray.

 _Is this where my story ends?_

It wasn't where he would have chosen it to end. And try as he might, Chrollo couldn't bring himself to chase off the goddamned demons picking at him, screaming in his ears, the rushing in his brain that begged and begged _not yet_.

" _Chrollo!"_

Kurapika's face appeared above him. Eyes red.

"Hey," Chrollo rasped.

Kurapika fumbled with his belt. "Don't you dare die," he said, voice furious. Of _course_ he would be angry at a time like this. Of course he would be. Chrollo would have expected nothing less.

He wanted Kurapika's voice quiet though. Sweet. Like the night—night before? That was all?

 _Just that? So recent?_

Too soon.

"You don't get to die on me, you thief," Kurapika was saying. " _Chrollo!"_

 _Funny_ , he thought, Kurapika's face blurring over him as someone tightened something around his leg. It pinched. His feet felt numb. He always thought he would be shot by someone he pissed off. And he always thought he would be ready.

 _I don't want to leave you._

 _I don't want to go._

* * *

Medics flooded the area. Thank God whoever was in charge of this was prepared. "He's AB," Kurapika told the medics as they loaded Chrollo onto a stretcher. His face was the pallor of a ghost's, but he wasn't dead, he wasn't going to die, Kurapika refused to accept that. _Please don't go._ "I'm AB too. I can—donate—"

"We have plenty of blood," assured the paramedic before jogging after the stretcher.

Kurapika wilted. He felt Gon at his side, holding him up. "We came running to find you," whispered Gon. "I'm—sorry—we just didn't want to abandon—"

"I know," Kurapika choked out. _Don't die, don't die, Chrollo_ — _I want_ — _you make my life better._

 _I want you in it._

Kurapika turned to Killua. "It's not your fault."

 _Trust me,_ he'd asked. Despite never giving them a reason to believe he cared to survive. _This is on me. Truly._

Killua swallowed. He looked away.

The ride to the hospital was quiet. Kurapika was ushered back with doctors, who proclaimed him to have a fractured nose. They didn't know how Chrollo was yet. When he emerged into a private waiting room the hospital assigned to them, dressed in scrubs because his clothes were soaked with Chrollo's blood, he found Gon holding Killua's hand as Killua rocked back and forth.

"Oh, Killua," managed Kurapika. He dropped down next to him. "I really don't blame you, Killua."

"Who do you blame then? Yourself?"

 _Yes_? But also—Chrollo would probably kick his ass if he heard that again. "Morena." He wanted to believe it. He would. He would try.

The door opened. People poured through the door. Mito screamed when she saw Gon. Illumi flew towards Killua. Milluki, Alluka, Kalluto, and even Hisoka followed. Kurapika swallowed. He wrung his hands. _When would_ —

"Kurapika!" Leorio raced towards him, Melody on his heels, and—Oito? With Woble?

 _They came?_ They cared. They _really_ cared. Kurapika grabbed Leorio. He burst into tears. Sobs rolled through him like waves of thunder, and he couldn't control himself. _I was such a fool._

 _You_ are _family._

Oito patted his shoulder. Melody embraced him, and Kurapika trembled. _I'm_ —

"Where's Danchou?" demanded a voice. Kurapika looked up and found—Nobunaga glaring at him. With Machi. And Feitan. And Pakunoda, and Shalnark, and Kortopi. He could hardly look at them. And Phinks, and Franklin, and Shizuku, and Bolonenov— _you're_ all _here?_

Leorio held Kurapika, arms secure, protective.

"Look, I know the two of you are involved," snapped Nobunaga. His face looked green, pinched. "Is he—are—is—"

"He was shot in the leg," admitted Kurapika, wiping his eyes. "He lost a lot of—blood—" His composure cracked again. "He came for me—he—"

"He got shot saving me," said Killua. "I—she tried to shoot me because I was an idiot—we were safe and Gon and I went back to try and save Kurapika—even though we planned for—" He wrapped his arms around himself, shame crumpling his face.

"It is _not_ your fault," Kurapika ground out.

"I made a dumb choice."

"So what?" cried out Kurapika. Words he'd always hated but always longed to hear welled up inside of him. "You—both of you—you're _kids! You can act like kids, for god's sake!"_

"Kurapika's right," said Illumi.

"I'm sorry, please say that again," Hisoka requested.

"He's right," said Illumi. "Kil, you were just—you did what you thought you had to. Out of loyalty for your friends. It's okay. It's not your fault."

Killua gaped up at Illumi. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

Illumi blinked.

Killua let out a sob. He covered his face. Illumi reached out, holding him. He rested his chin on the top of Killua's head. "It's okay. I'm—so glad you're okay. I couldn't—"

"Hell," said Hisoka. "You were kidnapped, Killua, Gon. You wanna cry, cry."

Gon wiped at his eyes. He stiffened as another figure appeared in the door.

Kurapika inhaled. _Ging_.

"Glad to see you're okay," Ging said awkwardly, stuffing his fists into his pocket. "I'm proud of you, Gon. From what I hear, Morena—"

"I don't care," Gon burst out. "I don't care, I don't care, I don't care!" He turned back to Mito.

"Gon, I—"

"Why?" screamed Gon, turning back to him. "If you actually cared, why didn't you come? Not when I was stabbed—now—it's too late! Now _I_ don't care! Why? Why wasn't I good enough? Why? What more can I do? I had to be kidnapped to be good enough for you? That's all I had—I can't—you'll leave again when you hear I wasn't a hero—when—you—"

"You _are_ good enough," said Hisoka. "Or, you will be." He glowered at Ging as if to say _he_ wasn't.

"I agree with my fiancé," said Illumi. "You're both—enough."

Illumi complimented Gon? Kurapika couldn't believe it.

"I don't even know what it means to have you proud of me," Gon choked out.

" _I'm_ proud of you," Kurapika said quietly, and Gon cried harder.

"Kurapika," said Pakunoda. "Is Danchou going to be all right?"

Kurapika swallowed. "I—don't know."

 _Please. Please. Please._

"I do," said a voice from behind Ging. "'Scuse me." He pushed his way into the room. "I'm the doctor."

"We're his family," said Nobunaga tersely, and tears blurred Kurapika's vision.

"We moved him to surgery right now, but we'll see how he tolerates that, but I'm optimistic. The wound was low enough on his leg that even though the femoral artery was injured, a tourniquet was effective. His condition is still serious, but—"

Kurapika didn't hear the rest, because he collapsed.

* * *

Someone needed to take a hammer to that annoying beeping machine, because he couldn't tune it out no matter how hard he tried.

"Chrollo?"

Someone was calling his name. He was running through the streets of Meteor City, and church bells rang in the distance even though the church was just a dump for people to crawl to and believe their lives could get better before they inevitably got worse. Uvogin ran next to him, the morning mist around them glittering with golden sunbeams. Shalnark waved, but when Chrollo tried to slow to turn around, talk to him, he couldn't.

"Can you hear me?" asked a voice.

He turned to Uvogin. He side-stepped a body. He heard someone shouting in an alleyway. Calling for help. He ignored it.

No, no. A flash of scarlet. He turned again. He couldn't see Uvo anymore, not when he ducked down that alley. The sun grew stronger.

"Hey," said the voice.

Chrollo blinked. _Where am I_?

Everything was white, except for rose sunlight glowing from a window, and Kurapika Kurta sitting next to him, black swollen flesh around his eyes and a bandage over his nose and forehead.

"The hell happened to you?" Chrollo rasped.

"I didn't get shot."

Oh right. Everything flooded back to him. That meant—a hospital? Chrollo let out a groan. "You're okay."

"So are you. The doctor says you will be, anyways." Kurapika cleared his throat. "Gon and Killua are okay, too."

"Good." Chrollo leaned back.

"Morena's alive, too. She's in custody somewhere else in this hospital."

"Mmph." Chrollo smirked. His heart pounded.

Kurapika snorted. He swallowed. "Chrollo, I—thank you."

"Oh, not again, never again," Chrollo complained. "No more _thank you_ s."

Kurapika looked at him.

 _You're here._ "Honestly, for what?" Chrollo asked. "I got you kidnapped. And threatened." _It was my fault._ This guilt was immense. It choked him. It poisoned him.

"What?"

He explained about Pariston, about Morena's demands. "She knew what it was like to be trash and wanted to burn it all with her."

"Yeah, I figured that part out." Kurapika winced as he brushed his hair back from his face. "Why did you come for me? Why didn't you just let—"

 _Are you that dense?_ Chrollo stared at him. "I didn't want you to die. For your own sake. You—you think you deserve to die so much, and I don't like to see that. I don't want you to be right. I wanted you to fucking live." _Because your life is beautiful._

"Why?" asked Kurapika.

Chrollo shrugged. And he felt chains around him, burdens, the faces he didn't remember staring at him. _How many people felt the way I felt earlier? How many people didn't have someone to save them?_ "Because I don't think your story deserves to end that way."

"So you don't want it to? You chose for it not to?"

"I suppose the world was on my side. The world doesn't allow for choices." And if it did, he'd made his long ago. He killed the Kurtas. Well, not exactly, but he might as well have. And if it weren't for that, Uvo—if it weren't for him— "You don't have to keep punishing yourself, you know, Kurapika. It was not your fault. Not even—Uvo—not completely, and the part that was, I forgive you."

Kurapika's mouth fell open.

"I don't want to see you punishing yourself again," said Chrollo. He gestured to his bandaged leg. It throbbed. "Not for me. I—"

 _I don't deserve it._

 _You saved my life, and I_ — _I_ — _your parents_ —He thought of the grave, those two names. Pairo. _You would have done so much good if it weren't for me._

Shame. He hadn't felt it in years, not since he ran from his mother's body, ran away from ever feeling that way. "I envy your ability to hope for a better life," said Chrollo, studying the dull blanket on the hospital bed. "You deserve one. Because you can believe in it."

"Coward," snapped Kurapika.

"Huh?" Chrollo turned.

"If you want that faith, then choose it. I had a choice and—I chose wrong, with Uvogin." A tear slipped down Kurapika's face. "You know we have choices."

"Not really," said Chrollo. "I can't believe that." _I'm afraid._

"Coward," Kurapika said again. "Yes, we do. You let me choose—whether or not to have sex with you, remember? Or do you think it was all just written in stone?"

Chrollo fell silent. The chains tightened around him. His face burned. "Then why—" He stopped. _I'm so ashamed_. "Why did you choose—me?"

Kurapika paused. "I thought if you could improve, I could. You—you gave me hope. That sounds selfish but…" He shrugged.

"I felt the same way," Chrollo whispered. _When I saw you still believing, still clinging._

 _You were righteous, even if a hypocrite, and I wanted that._ But he couldn't steal it.

"I don't think of you like trash," admitted Kurapika. He wiped at his face. "I think of you like a—person. With a gunshot wound. A bruised person, and I bruised you. And I'd like to help heal you, if you'd let me." His face was scarlet, like his eyes. "I mean to say, I—I know we were moving fast, and we didn't really talk about things, and I'm only eighteen, but I—it's not just about sex for me. It hasn't been, I mean. I know we only did it once but I—"

 _You're adorable._ Chrollo gaped at him.

"Do you want to date me?" Kurapika asked. "If you don't, based off what I've been like—I understand." He frowned. "I probably shouldn't be asking you this when you just woke up—"

"I want to," Chrollo interrupted. "I—really want to. But—" _I don't know if I deserve to._

 _Deserve according to whom? What? Fate? God? When did I even start thinking about this? Or was it always about this?_

"It's up to you," said Kurapika. "It's your choice."

 _Choices. I have choices. I could have made different ones_. Wherein he would not have hurt the Kurtas. And fuck, he would wish that until his dying day.

But he had. And he was here now. And so was Kurapika.

Chrollo felt something wet, sticky, moving down his face. He looked up at Kurapika. "I'm—sorry. I'm so sorry, Christ, fuck, I'm so—so sorry."

Kurapika's thumbs wiped his tears away.

"I want—I want—you," Chrollo choked out. "I want—I'm sorry, I ruined—"

"Nothing," said Kurapika. "I don't want—I forgive you."

 _You do? You, the golden rage mushroom_?

Kurapika really was amazing. Chrollo shook his head, looking up at him, into his eyes. They were scarlet, but not from anger, not from excitement or arousal. They were scarlet, because of him, because of Kurapika's own choice, and he was beautiful.

Kurapika bent down and brushed his lips against Chrollo's.

"You're my boyfriend then," Chrollo murmured. "'Kay?"

Kurapika laughed. A free sound. God, was this what he sounded like without—

A clap echoed from the doorway. Chrollo rolled his eyes, turning.

Hisoka stood there. "Glad to see you looking sick as a dog, but alive. Would you like me to pick you up some hair gel?"

"Really?" complained Kurapika.

"I mean, honestly, Chrollo, I expected you to get desperate when Illumi and I got engaged," said Hisoka. "But not _this_ desperate." He gestured at Kurapika.

"He's my plus one to your wedding," Kurapika informed him, lacing his hand with Chrollo's.

Hisoka's laugh vanished into a look of gray disbelief.

* * *

 **Next: last chapter! And a wedding.**


	13. Interlude

"Danchou!"

Chrollo pushed himself up on his elbows. His leg still hurt like hell. He finally got Leorio to agree to take Kurapika home to sleep. His boyfriend's self-harming tendencies were not going to vanish overnight, but Chrollo would be damned if he didn't try to force him to take care of himself.

"Oh hey," said Chrollo, taking in— _everyone_. "You all came."

"Correction," said Machi. "We've been here all night."

"Machi, you're pregnant."

"I took a nap." Machi's hand was laced with Feitan's. Chrollo smiled.

"How are you feeling?" asked Pakunoda, adjusting her purse on her shoulder.

"Kurta boy apologized," said Franklin, heaving himself into one of those uncomfortable chairs that was way too small for his size. "To all of us. He bowed and everything. And then he left with those friends of his."

Chrollo wasn't surprised. He nodded.

"I don't understand," said Shalnark again, fiddling with his precious phone. Chrollo didn't know how the kid survived without it in prison. "I still don't understand."

"Me neither," griped Nobunaga.

"Makes sense to me," chirped Shizuku. "He feels bad about something because he hurt someone he didn't want to hurt."

"Well, he wanted to hurt me at the time," Chrollo said, shifting. Shit. Nausea snaked out from his wound and rolled through him in waves. He was not going to move again. _Where is my pain medication_? "But then, I wanted his—rubies at the time."

It had all happened. It wasn't a story. Or, it was, but he was living it, a choose-your-own-adventure type tale, but he couldn't turn back pages or erase lines he'd already written. He'd never liked choose-your-own-adventure stories. Too much pressure.

 _I don't know how to make good choices._ Choices for him were never choices at all. Survive. Take what you can. Everyone would take from him, from the weak, and so he wouldn't let them. _I just wanted_ —

 _To matter._

He looked at the faces in the room, all of them looking to him. _I do. To you._

 _And you do. To me._

 _Thank you._

"I'm sorry too," Chrollo managed. "I—should not have—I don't mean to demean Uvogin's memory."

Phinks lowered his gaze.

"Funny thing is," Nobunaga said. "He probably would've liked Kurapika's spunk."

"What spunk?" asked Phinks. "I see pure misery and—"

"Stupidity, which he liked," snapped Nobunaga. "Unvarnished insanity. Which, Danchou, your idiot boyfriend definitely displays."

Chrollo couldn't contain a laugh. "You know," he said. "I'm—all of you—I'm glad you came here."

He'd always seen himself as just one of them. But they always looked up to him, for some reason, and he hadn't—he'd taken that—he hadn't fully thought about what that meant. Or thought about it at all. _I want to honor that._ He would not risk their safety again. They weren't replaceable. None of them were.

 _No one is trash_.

"Kortopi," Chrollo said. "Shalnark, Paku—you all especially. If you're angry with me, you should say so." They were not just extensions of himself. They were—people he related to, but their own protagonists.

"I'm not," said Pakunoda.

Kortopi lifted his shoulders. "If you are happy, I am happy."

Chrollo leaned his head back. _Why?_ He inhaled. "I am—happy. Because of—Kurapika, and also because of all of you." _Because you want me. As a friend. As your danchou._

"Don't get sappy," snapped Feitan. "Gross."

"I can't wait for you to cry when you have your baby," Chrollo taunted.

Shalnark snorted. He gave Chrollo a smile.

"I not cry," said Feitan. "Phinks will."

"That depends. Am I the godfather?"

"Yeah," said Machi. "You and Paku."

"Hisoka will be sad," commented Shalnark.

"You know he actually is kind of good with Illumi's siblings," commented Shizuku. "And hearing him threaten Ging was pretty great."

"He threatened Ging?" asked Chrollo.

Shizuku nodded. "Mm-hm. He told him if he ever made Gon cry again he would demean himself to hire us to make sure Ging never had a single day of joy again."

Well. Chrollo couldn't help but laugh. He remembered fighting Hisoka, and realizing he was just like him, and that's why Chrollo wanted to see him lose. He wanted to see how, and why, and what it would take. But he also wasn't like Chrollo. What a fascinating foil.

He also remembered the cold gravestone behind him as he talked to Kurapika. That was a far better way to talk to someone, to find that out, as opposed to drugging them. Especially when that came back to bite him in the ass. Or shoot him in the thigh.

"Hisoka will probably want updates on Machi's pregnancy," joked Shalnark.

Feitan threw his own phone at him.

"No throwing things!" barked the nurse from the hallway.

 _If you're out there then where in the seven hells is my goddamn pain medicine?_ "Hey," Chrollo panted. "I have a suggestion. Go wild. Throw everything and get kicked out. Maybe then she'll actually pay some attention to my empty IV."

Three hours later, Chrollo opened his eyes to find Biscuit Krueger standing in his room with her arms crossed. A pleasant numbness settled on him. Nausea was not so pleasant, though, but at least it wasn't stemming from pain this time. "I heard your friends got themselves kicked out."

"Oops," rasped Chrollo.

"Don't be cheeky." Biscuit shoved a laptop case at him. "It was processed and handed back."

Sharp anxiety bit away at the numbness. "Did you—"

"Private information," Biscuit said. "We didn't have a warrant for it. Your information is safe."

Chrollo swallowed. _So they're safe._

She gave him a solemn look. "Don't waste your chance, now, okay?"

Chrollo nodded. "Okay."

* * *

"I can walk just fine," panted Chrollo.

"No, you can't, dumbass," snapped Kurapika. "Lean against me."

They finally released Chrollo from the hospital, and Kurapika was trying to haul him to his house from Melody's car. Melody clucked her tongue at Chrollo's stubbornness. Kurapika rolled his eyes.

"Fine," Chrollo acquiesced. His arm slung around Kurapika's shoulders, they stumbled towards the house. Kurapika had been feeding Indoor Fish over the past week. Kurapika opened the door.

Chrollo's friends all were there. "You didn't think we were going to leave you alone, now, did you, Danchou?" joked Nobunaga, tipping a beer towards his lips.

"He can't drink," said Machi. "Doctor's orders. Not until the pain medicine stops."

Chrollo scowled, but Kurapika knew he was touched. _It's okay to feel normal emotions_. Both of them were trying to learn that. It just meant that they were alive, and they were human, and that—that was okay. Maybe even good.

Kurapika swallowed when Shalnark avoided looking at him. Guilt still swam in his stomach, hungry and devouring him when he let it.

"We put food in your fridge, Danchou," reported Kortopi.

"Not Franklin's, please," managed Chrollo as Kurapika helped him to his leather sofa. He winced as he sat down.

Franklin let out a guffaw. Kurapika managed to smile. It was still strange to him, seeing them as people, not as monsters ripping his parents away from the world.

"Actually, Leorio and Cheadle and I made it," Melody said sweetly, clasping her hands.

"Oh?" Chrollo arched his brows. "Well. I trust you."

Kurapika made to move towards the kitchen, but Chrollo grabbed his arm. He cast him puppy eyes. "Don't go."

"You're impossible." Kurapika huffed as he heaved himself down next to him.

"No, I can just tell there's something you've been wanting to tell me."

Kurapika stiffened. Was he really so readable? "I—"

"Who did he turn in this time," griped Feitan.

Kurapika's face burned. He bowed his head. "It—I wouldn't." _You're all tolerating my presence_ _—why? Just because I make Chrollo happy? Because he likes me?_

He would never have been okay with Leorio befriending these people. _I want to learn. From all of you._

"I know," said Feitan. "Joke."

"You don't joke, though," Shizuku pointed out.

"Just worried," said Feitan.

"I won't," Kurapika said. He lifted his gaze, meeting Feitan. "I promise. I have—no intention of ever harming any of you ever again."

"You already apologized," Phinks said, rolling his eyes. Machi kept her gaze on him, eyes somber. Leorio waved, appearing from the kitchen with Cheadle. He better have asked her to the wedding or Kurapika would personally strangle him.

"I know," said Kurapika.

"We not allowed to hold grudges," said Feitan. "So. Consider this the end of the line, Kurta."

"You should be allowed to, if you want to," Kurapika insisted. Cheadle crossed her arms, no doubt analyzing them all. "You don't—have to—"

"Stupid," said Nobunaga, tossing an apple up in the air and catching it. "We'd all rather not. Well, I rather would, but I don't want to."

"That's a contradiction," Shizuku pointed out.

"No," said Kurapika. "I understand." _Because you want to be together. All of you. You aren't pretending it didn't happen. I can never change that I hurt these people, nor they that they hurt me, but_ —

 _We all just want what we can have now more._

Nobunaga nodded at him.

"I actually have something to say," Kurapika said, voice shaking. "I—Oito called me. She took Tserriednich's rubies, since he's dead and Nasubi doesn't know he had them."

Chrollo turned to him. "Your rubies. Your family's."

Kurapika nodded. Words deserted him. She'd called him earlier that day to tell him. And she chastised him for putting Woble at risk, but she—also thanked him. He thought she should hate him.

The world, and people, didn't appear to work in _shoulds_. Often for the worse, but sometimes, for better.

"She's leaving Nasubi," said Kurapika. "Even though nothing's come out about him, and she doesn't have money, and he'll defeat her in court if she tries to get anything other than basic child support, and she hasn't completed her class. She's leaving tomorrow. She asked if I would come over and help with Woble while she packs."

"We help pack," Feitan declared.

Machi nodded.

"I knew she was a strong independent woman who didn't need no man," declared Phinks. "She's leaving on her own merits. She's brave."

Machi groaned. "You're pathetic."

"What? She is!" Phinks insisted.

"Phinks, careful now," warned Chrollo.

"What?" Phinks asked again. "She's awesome."

"I cannot," said Feitan flatly.

Melody smiled.

Chrollo looked to Kurapika. "So, do you have these rubies?"

Kurapika nodded. He reached into his backpack and pulled the bag out, opening it up. They glittered. The jewels he'd spent years seeking, the ones he was willing to empty every drop of blood, every scrap of worth, from his body to reclaim. They were hard, cold in his hands, smooth. Things.

His parents, Pairo—they were still buried.

 _You aren't here._

 _I miss you._

" _When I'm grown up," Kurapika said, flipping through one of their books, one set in a continent far, far away. "When I have a lot of money, I swear I'm going to get you the best treatments, Pairo. You'll see again. And then we'll go here, and we'll eat spicy food and we'll get sunburned and we'll fly on a plane and_ _—"_

 _Pairo laughed. He tapped Kurapika's head. "I know."_

" _He'll just forget you," taunted a schoolboy whose name Kurapika couldn't even remember anymore. "That's what happens when people get rich."_

 _He already was, or could be, because of the rubies, but Kurapika could only glare with scarlet eyes._

" _He won't," said Pairo, slinging his arm around Kurapika. "Let it go, Kurapika! It's all right." He held his friend back._

 _Kurapika exhaled, shaking. He wanted to punch those boys. Pairo was_ _—Pairo was worth so much more than that._

" _I know you'd never forget me," Pairo assured him._

He almost had. But now, he remembered. _I won't forget what you wanted._

"I'm going to call Oito again," said Kurapika. "And when I go tomorrow to help, I want to give her these. To sell. It'll provide for her and Woble for a long time, let her take more classes, get Woble—" He closed his mouth, knotting the bag again.

"Are you serious?" Chrollo demanded. His eyes flashed.

Kurapika blinked. _You're upset?_

"You spent how long looking for them?" Chrollo was aghast.

"I—" _Was looking for my family._ Was looking for arms, for warmth. He reached out, fingers hovering over Chrollo's hand. _I thought_ —

Chrollo's face softened. He swallowed. "I see."

Kurapika nodded. His heart pounded.

"You are one of the most fascinating people I've ever met," Chrollo informed him. He looked at him—in awe? Admiration?

 _Why?_

 _I want to learn._ Kurapika's eyes filled. Chrollo's misted, and it was like looking into a mirror.

 _I found them._

* * *

"You look pretty great in a suit," Chrollo commented. He rested his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. He loved this cologne.

Kurapika turned to him, those red earrings swinging. "Thanks."

"Hopefully Hisoka didn't double-back and invite all of us only to Red Wedding us," Chrollo commented.

Kurapika snorted. "I trust Illumi not to let him."

Of course, Machi had been invited since the beginning, but once Hisoka realized she was bringing Feitan as her plus-one and Kurapika was bringing Chrollo, and they'd invited Oito only to realize that meant she would be bringing Phinks, there was kind of no point to keeping them out.

Truth was, Chrollo didn't mind, and he wasn't certain Hisoka did either. After what he'd done to Hisoka, he kind of didn't have a leg to stand on to criticize him. And if Hisoka could find some kind of happiness— _Hisoka_ , of all people—Chrollo refused to think he couldn't have some, too.

When they were in college Chrollo assessed both of them. Illumi was an intelligent, shrewd, and talented person who always succeeded at his goals. Hisoka was chaos itself, always looking for a laugh, and both of them were teetering on the edge of tragedy and Chrollo wanted to watch, wanted to see what kind of role he could play in this even if it was just as a spectator.

He was okay as a spectator today, in the crowd. Machi smirked at him as she sat next to Chrollo and Kurapika, Feitan at her side. Her lavender dress was cut high, revealing an ever-so-slight bump. He spotted Melody in a soft black dress, Leorio with Cheadle Yorkshire—"see, told you so," Chrollo hissed to Kurapika—those employees of Illumi's, Amane and Canary together, and even Biscuit Krueger with a guy she introduced as Vergei.

"It's fine, Leorio's internship's over," Kurapika whispered back.

"Is it though?" Chrollo asked.

Kurapika kicked him in the leg. Chrollo narrowed his eyes.

"Hey," said a voice. Chrollo looked up to see Killua standing there in a tux. His eyes were wide in panic.

"What's going on?" demanded Kurapika.

"Did you see who Milluki brought as his date?" Killua hissed. "It's just wrong, is what it is."

Chrollo turned. A girl with glistening black waves sat next to Milluki. A strapless lavender silk dress made her look like a queen.

"She graduated, and she's an adult," pointed out Kurapika.

"Who is this?" asked Chrollo.

"Her name is Palm Siberia, and she is _my_ friend!" Killua insisted, face red.

"I thought you were jealous of her because she went out with Gon," said Kurapika.

High school drama was always so fascinating. Mostly because it never ended but was more open than adult drama.

Killua scowled. "Well, she's my friend now. Or she was. If she's going to start dating _Milluki_ , of all people—"

"You should just ask Gon out," Kurapika supplied.

"Shut up, idiot," snapped Killua, though his eyes lit up. Kurapika smirked at him, and Killua rolled his eyes.

"I think my personality is rubbing off you a little," commented Chrollo when Killua scuttled away.

Kurapika shrugged. Chrollo laced his fingers through his, enjoying the feel of those five rings Kurapika always wore.

" _What are these?" he asked Kurapika a few weeks ago, when Kurapika rolled off him and sweat coated both of their bodies. His own fingers traced the five._

" _Oh," said Kurapika. "They were my dad's. Or, they were_ _—rings passed down from all five_ _—I mean they were wedding rings for five generations. A sailor, a nurse, a judge, a mapmaker, and a policeman_ _—but long ago. My dad never wore one, though. Not one of his own, at least."_

" _Maybe you should add a sixth for a historian," said Chrollo._ Why did I wipe out their history _? He reached out and lifted Kurapika's hand, kissing each of the rings._

 _Kurapika rolled his eyes. "Don't do that."_

" _Do what?" Chrollo lifted his head._

" _Be sad," said Kurapika, hands cupping his face as he turned towards Chrollo. "Not now."_

" _Why not?"_

" _Because," said Kurapika. "I'm happy."_

He was still trying to figure out how to use his newspaper without blackmailing people, because Chrollo was not stupid enough to think Biscuit Krueger would let it go if she caught him doing it again. But he hadn't done it since the incident with Morena.

" _Your writing alone is good enough," said Kurapika a few nights ago. "Hypocrite."_

Because he was. Justice was something he had always—manipulated.

Things weren't hopeless.

As he watched Hisoka and Illumi kiss—never a sight Chrollo thought would make him remotely happy, and yet—and then as everyone celebrated, he kept reminding himself he was here, not to ferret out information or observe, but to drink and laugh and serve Machi whatever food she wanted as they were all doing. Of course, the napkins were decorated with the four suits of cards.

"Let's dance," Chrollo said, tugging Kurapika out onto the dance floor.

Kurapika's arms wrapped around him, warm. He smiled up at Chrollo, a little sheepish.

 _Why did you choose me?_

 _I don't know, but I'm glad you did._ And he wasn't going to ascribe that to fate, not when it was Kurapika.

"Last time we danced I wound up unconscious," Kurapika remarked.

"No one drugged your drink this time."

"I didn't even have alcohol."

"Ah yes, goody-two-shoes."

Kurapika stepped on his toes. Chrollo wrinkled his nose at him and Kurapika's eyes flushed red. Chrollo's hands touched his sockets.

"Huh?" asked Kurapika.

"Your eyes are—" Chrollo swallowed. "They're stunning." Way more stunning than any gems. They sizzled and they spoke to him and they were like red stars, awake.

"I don't even mind your tattoo anymore," Kurapika said, and Chrollo had to laugh.

Chrollo lowered his lips to Kurapika's temple. His lips traced their way to Kurapika's cheek, down to his mouth.

"Your friends are watching."

"Mm, it's a wedding, everyone is acting romantic."

Kurapika snorted. "The newlyweds were making out earlier too."

They had been indeed. Chrollo smiled. He leaned in to kiss Kurapika again. "I don't care if they see that I love you. I want them to see that."

"Sure, but—" Kurapika stopped. His jaw fell open. "Wait, did you just say—"

 _I don't care that you won't say it back, not yet._ Maybe not ever, but Chrollo hoped that wasn't the case. He just—he had to say it. Because he did. And he had choices, and was still trying to figure out what that meant, but if he had to make choices and they had to matter, he wanted to make this one. He tilted his head to the side. "I do love you."

"How many people have you said that to?" Kurapika joked.

He never thought he'd have the chance to say it. Chrollo swallowed.

"Oh," said Kurapika. His brow creased. "Really? No one?"

Chrollo shook his head. Kurapika knew about his mother by now, but—she never said that to him. And he never to her. He knew his friends did, but none of them would say it, not even with alcohol. His heart felt weighted all of a sudden.

"Chrollo," said Kurapika. "You didn't have to say that. I'm not going anywhere."

"I know," said Chrollo. "I just—I wanted—"

Kurapika squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed Chrollo, holding him tighter. His shoulders shook.

"Are you crying?" _What did I do?_

"Not exactly," said Kurapika, looking up at him. His eyes were wet, though. "I can't believe you—feel that way about me."

"Of course I do. You're brave and smart and sexy—"

"You don't have to convince me. I believe you." Kurapika glanced into his eyes. "You—if it weren't for you, I'd be—lost, I think."

"Mm."

Kurapika stood on tiptoe, pulling his face closer. His thumbs traced Chrollo's cross tattoo. "Has anyone ever told _you_ they loved you?"

"A drunk person, once. I think I told her to fuck off."

Kurapika snorted. His eyebrows lifted.

"Otherwise, no," Chrollo admitted. He felt strangely naked.

"I do," said Kurapika. "I want to say it. I mean, I love you, Chrollo Lucilfer."

His breath caught in his throat. Huh. How funny. Something hot and prickly stung his cheeks. His breaths came shallow. Kurapika took his hands.

 _I'm here._

"Are _you_ crying?" Kurapika asked, muffling a laugh. "Why?"

Chrollo shook his head. _After all I did to you?_ The thing about Kurapika was that Chrollo knew he wouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it. But Kurapika really—meant that? What a bizarre twist.

"Are you okay?"

Chrollo nodded. He hesitated, and then ducked out of the room. Kurapika followed, and possibly for the first time in his life he heard an undignified sound emerging from him. A sob. _And this is real._

"Chrollo," said Kurapika. "Does that really—I mean—you said—"

"If only I thought to record this," commented Hisoka's voice. "I could start a new YouTube channel called _Chrollo In Love."_

Chrollo gritted his teeth.

"I'm out here hiding from Milluki and Palm's attempts to record me for Milluki's channel," Hisoka said as Illumi appeared behind him, both of them dressed in suave designer suits and with their hair down. "So I don't really feel like recording this."

Chrollo met Hisoka's golden eyes and saw again the same look he'd seen when he defeated him, but without the animosity, that look he'd been chasing. Understanding.

 _You found someone you love and who loves you._

 _And now I have, too?_

Kurapika's arm was still around his waist. _I_ have _._

"You can cry, you know," said Hisoka.

"And if you'll excuse me, I trust Kalluto's distracted Milluki and Palm by now, so my husband and I have to go dance." Illumi rolled his eyes.

 _Thank you,_ Chrollo thought. He looked up at Kurapika. Vision blurred, he still saw a whole person. _Do you see me as one? Not as fragments or dolls?_

If there was a God, or fate, Chrollo felt grateful. Either way, he rested his head on Kurapika's shoulder, and Kurapika held him.

 _I choose this. You. I choose you._


End file.
